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BY 

J.. HORACE    McFARLAND 


Illustrated  from  Photographs 
by  the  Author 


NEW   YORK 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

1906 


Copyright,  1904 
By  The  Outlook  Company 


Published  April,  1904 

Reprinted  April,  1904 

New  edition  September,  1906 


Norfajooli  59re30 : 

Berwick  &  Smith  Co.,  Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


iForetDorD 

THESE  sketches  are,  I  fear,  very  unscien- 
tific and  unsystematic.  They  record  the 
growth  of  my  own  interest  and  informa- 
tion, as  I  have  recently  observed  and  enjoyed 
the  trees  among  which  I  had  walked  unsee- 
ing far  too  many  years.  To  pass  on,  as  well 
as  I  can,  some  of  the  benefit  that  has  come 
into  my  own  life  from  this  wakened  interest 
in  the  trees  provided  by  the  Creator  for  the 
resting  of  tired  brains  and  the  healing  of  ruf- 
fled spirits,  as  well  as  for  utility,  is  the  reason 
for  gathering  together  and  somewhat  extend- 
ing the  papers  that  have  brought  me,  as  they 
have  appeared  in  the  pages  of  "The  Outlook," 
so  many  letters  of  fellowship  and  apprecia- 
tion from  others  who  have  often  seen  more 
clearly  and  deeply  into  the  woods  than  I  may 
hope   to. 

Driven  out  from  my  desk  by  weariness  some- 
times-^ and  as  often,  I  confess,  by  a  rasped  tem- 

/   /  X  V  ( v)  w*  fM-  *  ^oPBnrv  OF 


FOREJVORD 

per  I  would  fain  hide  from  display  —  I  have 
never  failed  to  find  rest,  and  peace,  and  much 
to  see  and  to  love,  among  the  common  and 
familiar  trees,  to  which  I  hope  these  mere 
hints  of  some  of  their  features  not  always  seen 
may  send  others  who  also  need  their  silent 
and    beneficent   message. 

J.  H.  McF. 

March  //,  igo4 


(vi) 


Contents 


PAGE 


A   Story   of   Some   Maples i 

The   Growth   of   the   Oak 25 

Pines 49 

Apples 73      ' 

Willows  and  Poplars 95 

The   Elm   and   the   Tulip 131 

Nut -BEARING  Trees 157 

Some   Other   Trees 185 

Index 235 

Botanical   Names 239 


(vii) 


tm  of  3iuuistfatton;s 


Silver  maple  flowers     . 

Young  leaves   of  the  red   maple 

"  The  Norway  maple  breaks  into  a  wonderful  bloom 

Samaras  of  the  sugar  maple 

A   mature  sycamore   maple    . 

Sycamore  maple   blossoms 

Flowers  of  the  ash-leaved   maple  . 

Ash-leaved   maples   in   bloom 

Striped   maple       ..... 

The  swamp  white  oak  in  winter 

Flowers  of  the  pin-oak 

The  swamp  white  oak  in   early  spring 

An  old  post-oak  .... 

A  blooming  twig  of  the  swamp  white  oak 

Acorns  of  the  English  oak  . 

A  lone  pine  on  the  Indian   river  . 

Hemlock  Hill,  Arnold  Arboretum 

The  long-leaved   pines   of  the   South 

Fountain-like  effect  of  the  young  long-leaved  pines 

An  avenue  of  white   pines    . 

Cones  of  the   white   spruce  . 

An  apple  orchard  in  winter 

When  the  apple  trees  blossom 

The   Spectabilis  crab   in   bloom 

Fruits  of  the   wild   crab 

The   beauty   of  a   fruiting  apple  branch 

(ix) 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Bloom  of  double-flowering  apple   . 
"^A  weeping  willow   in   early   spring 

The  weeping  willow  in  a  storm  . 

A  pussy-willow   in   a  park    . 

Blooms  of  the  white   willow 

A  white  willow   in   a  characteristic   position 
\  Clump   of  young  white  willows    . 

White  poplars   in   spring-time         .   . 

Carolina  poplar  as  a  street  tree 

Winter  aspect  of  the  cottonwood 

Lombardy   poplar  .... 

A   mature  American   elm 

The  delicate  tracery  of  the  American  elm   i 

The  English  elm  in  winter 

Winter  effect  of  tulip  trees 

A  great  liriodendron   in  bloom 

Flowers   of  the  liriodendron 

The  wide-spreading  black  walnut 

The  American  sweet  chestnut   in   winter 

Sweet  chestnut  blooms 

The  chinquapin  ..... 

A  shag-bark  hickory  in  bloom 

The  true  nut-eater       .... 

The  American  beech  in  winter    . 

The  witch-hazel  .... 

Sweet  birch  in    spring .... 

Yellow  birches     ..... 

Flowers  of  the  spice-bush    . 

Leaves  and   berries  of  the  American   holly 

American   holly   tree  at  Trenton   . 

Floral   bracts  or  involucres  of  the  dogwood 

The  red-bud   in   bloom 

Blooms  of  the  shad-bush 


n   wmter 


10 


8, 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Flowers   of  the   American   linden  . 
The   American   linden 
Flowers  of  the  black   locust 
Young  trees  of  the  black   locust  . 
The  sycamore,  or  button-ball 
Button-balls  - —  fruit   of  the   sycamore 
The   liquidambar  .... 

The  leaves  and   fruit  of  the   liquidambar 
The  papaw  in  bloom    .... 
Flowers  of  the   papaw 
The  persimmon   tree   in   fruiting  time    . 
Berries  of  the  spice-bush 


PAGE 

207 
209 
211 
212 
215 
217 
220 
222 
226 
227 
231 
234 


(xi) 


Z  ^torp  of  %ome 


2i  ^torp  of  ^ome 

THIS  is  not  a  botanical  disquisition ;  it  is  not 
a  complete  account  of  all  the  members  of 
the  important  tree  family  of  maples.  I  am 
not  a  botanist,  nor  a  true  scientific  observer,  but 
only  a  plain  tree -lover,  and  I  have  been  watch- 
ing some  trees  bloom  and  bud  and  grow  and 
fruit  for  a  few  years,  using  a  camera  now  and 
then  to  record  what  I  see  —  and  much  more 
than  I  see,  usually ! 

In  the  sweet  springtime,  when  the  rising  of 
the  sap  incites  some  to  poetry,  some  to  making 
maple  sugar,  and  some  to  watching  for  the  first 
flowers,  it  is  well  to  look  at  a  few  tree -blooms, 
and  to  consider  the  possibilities  and  the  pleas- 
ures of  a  peaceful  hunt  that  can  be  made 
with  profit  in  city  street  or  park,  as  well  as 
along  country  roadsides  and  in  the  meadows 
and  the  woods. 

Who    does   not  know  of    the  maples  that  are 

3 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH   THE    TREES 

all  around  us?  Yet  who  has  seen  the  common- 
est of  them  bloom  in  very  early  spring,  or 
watched  the  course  of  the  peculiar  winged  seed- 
pods  or  "keys"  that  follow  the 
flowers?  The  white  or  "silver" 
maple  of  streets  or  roadsides, 
the  soft  maple  of  the  woods,  is 
one  of  the  most  familiar  of 
American  trees.  Its  rapid  and 
vigorous  growth  endears  it  to 
the  man  who  is  in  a  hurry  for 
shade,  and  its  sturdy  limbs  are 
the  joy  of  the  tree-butcher  who 
"trims"  them  short  in  later 
years. 

Watch    this     maple    in    very 

^^  early  spring — even  before  spring 

is    any    more     than    a    calendar 

probability — and     a     singular 

bloom  will  be   found   along  the 

Silver  maple  flowers       slcudcr    twigS.      Like    little    loOSC- 

haired  brushes  these  flowers  are,  coming  often 
bravely  in  sleet  and  snow,  and  seemingly  able 
to  "set"  and  fertilize  regardless  of  the  weather. 
They   hurry    through    the    bloom -time,    as    they 


4J 


A    STORY    OF   SOME    MAPLES 

must  do  to  carry  out  the  life -round,  for  the 
graceful  two -winged  seeds  that  follow  them  are 
picked  up  and  whirled  about  by  April  winds, 
and,  if  they  lodge  in  the  warming  earth,  are 
fully  able  to  grow  into  fine  little  trees  the 
same  season.  Examine  these  seed-pods,  keys,  or 
samaras  (this  last  is  a  scientific  name  with  such 
euphony  to  it  that  it  might  well  become  com- 
mon ! ) ,  and  notice  the  delicate  veining  in  the 
translucent  wings.  See  the  graceful  lines  of  the 
whole  thing,  and  realize  what  an  abundant  pro- 
vision Dame  Nature  makes  for  reproduction, —  for 
a  moderate- sized  tree  completes  many  thousands 
of  these  finely  formed,  greenish  yellow,  winged 
samaras,  and  casts  them  loose  for  the  wind  to 
distribute  during  enough  days  to  secure  the 
best   chances    of   the    season. 

This  same  silver  maple  is  a  bone  of  contention 
among  tree -men,  at  times.  Some  will  tell  you  it 
is  "coarse";  and  so  it  is  when  planted  in  an 
improper  place  upon  a  narrow  street,  allowed  to 
flourish  unrestrained  for  years,  and  then  ruthlessly 
cropped  ofif  to  a  headless  trunk!  But  set  it  on  a 
broad  lawn,  or  upon  a  roadside  with  generous 
room,  and  its  noble  stature  and  grace  need  yield 

5 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

nothing  to  the  most  artistic  elm  of  New  Eng- 
land. And  in  the  deep  woods  it  sometimes 
reaches  a  majesty  and  a  dignity  that  compel  ad- 
miration. The  great  maple  at  Eagles  Mere  is 
the  king  of  the  bit  of  primeval  forest  yet  re- 
maining to  that  mountain  rest  spot.  It  towers 
high  over  mature  hemlocks  and  beeches,  and 
seems  well  able  to  defy  future  centuries. 

But  there  is  another  very  early  maple  to  watch 
for,  and  it  is  one  widely  distributed  in  the  East- 
ern States.  The  red  or  scarlet  maple  is  well 
named,  for  its  flowers,  not  any  more  conspicu- 
ous in  form  than  those  of  its  close  relation,  the 
silver  maple,  are  usually  bright  red  or  yellow, 
and  they  give  a  joyous  color  note  in  the  very  be- 
ginning of  spring's  overture.  Not  long  are  these 
flowers  with  us;  they  fade,  only  to  be  quickly 
succeeded  by  even  more  brilliant  samaras,  a  little 
more  delicate  and  refined  than  those  of  the  silver 
maple,  as  well  as  of  the  richest  and  warmest  hue. 
Particularly  in  New  England  does  this  maple 
provide    a    notable    spring    color    showing. 

The  leaves  of  the  red  maple  —  it  is  also  the 
swamp  maple  of  some  localities  —  as  they  open 
to  the  coaxing  of  April  sun   and  April  showers, 

6 


Young   leaves   of    the    red    maple 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH   THE    TREES 

have  a  special  charm.  They  are  properly  red, 
but  mingled  with  the  characteristic  color  is  a 
whole  palette  of  tints  of  soft  yellow,  bronze  and 
apricot.  As  the  little  baby  leaflets  open,  they 
are  shiny  and  crinkly,  and  altogether  attractive. 
One  thinks  of  the  more  aristocratic  and  dwarfed 
Japanese  maples,  in  looking  at  the  opening  of 
these  red -brown  beauties,  and  it  is  no  pleasure 
to  see  them  smooth  out  into  sedate  greenness. 
Again,  in  fall,  a  glory  of  color  comes  to  the 
leaves  of  the  red  maple ;  for  they  illumine  the 
countryside  with  their  scarlet  hue,  and,  as  they 
drop,  form  a  brilliant  thread  in  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  all  carpets  —  that  of  the  autumn  leaves. 
I  think  no  walk  in  the  really  happy  days  of 
the  fall  maturity  of  growing  things  is  quite  so 
pleasant  as  that  which  leads  one  to  shuffle 
through  this  deep  forest  floor  covering  of  ori- 
ental   richness    of   hue. 

As  the  ground  warms  and  the  sun  searches 
into  the  hearts  of  the  buds,  the  Norway  maple, 
familiar  street  tree  of  Eastern  cities,  breaks  into 
a  wonderful  bloom.  Very  deceptive  it  is,  and 
taken  for  the  opening  foliage  by  the  casual  ob- 
server;   yet    there    is,    when    these    flowers    first 

8 


A    STORY    OF   SOME    MAPLES 

open,  no  hint  of  leaf  on  the  tree,  save  that  of 
the  swelling  bud.  All  that  soft  haze  of  greenish 
yellow  is  bloom,  and  bloom  of  the  utmost  beauty. 
The  charm  lies  not  in  boldness  of  color  or  of 
contrast,  but  at  the  other  extreme  —  in  the  deli- 
cacy of  dif]fering  tints,  in  the  variety  of  subtle 
shades  and  tones.  There  are  charms  of  form 
and  of  fragrance,  too,  in  this  Norway  maple  — 
the  flowers  are  many -rayed  stars,  and  they  emit 
a  faint,  spicy  odor,  noticeable  only  when  several 
trees  are  together  in  bloom.  And  these  flowers 
last  long,  comparatively;   so  long  that  the  green- 


The  Norway  maple  breaks  into  a  wonderful  bloom' 

9 


GETTING  JC^UJINTED    TFITH    THE    TREES 

ish  yellow  of  the  young  leaves  begins  to  combine 
with  them  before  they  fall.  The  tints  of  flower 
and  of  leaf  melt  insensibly  into  each  other,  so 
that,  as  I  have  remarked  before,  the  casual  ob- 
server says,  "The  leaves  are  out  on  the  Norway 
maples,"  —  not  knowing  of  the  great  mass  of 
delightful  flowers  that  have  preceded  the  leaves 
above  his  unseeing  eyes.  I  emphasize  this,  for  I 
hope  some  of  my  readers  may  be  on  the  outlook 
for  a  new  pleasure  in  early  spring  —  the  bloom- 
ing of  this  maple,  with  flowers  so  thoroughly 
distinct  and  so  entirely  beautiful. 

The  samaras  to  follow  on  this  Norway  maple 
are  smaller  than  those  of  the  other  two  maples 
mentioned,  and  they  hang  together  at  a  different 
angle,  somewhat  more  graceful.  I  have  often 
wondered  how  the  designers,  who  work  to  death 
the  pansies,  the  roses  and  the  violets,  have  man- 
aged to  miss  a  form  or  "motive"  of  such  value, 
suggesting  at  once  the  near-by  street  and  far- 
away Egypt. 

A  purely  American  species,  and  one  of  as 
much  economic  importance  as  any  leaf-dropping 
tree,  is  the  sugar  maple,  known  also  as  rock 
maple  —  one     designation    because    we    can    get 

lO 


Samaras  of  the  sugar  maple 


sweetness  from  its  sap,  the  other  because  of  the 
hardness  of  its  wood.  The  sugar  maples  of 
New  England,  to  me,  are  more  individual  and 
almost  more  essentially  beautiful  than  the  famed 
elms.  No  saccharine  Ufe- blood  is  drawn  from 
the  elm;  therefore  its  elegance  is  considered. 
I  notice  that  we  seldom  think  much  of  beauty 
when  it  attaches  to  something  we  can  eat!  Who 
realizes  that  the  common  corn,  the  American 
maize,  is  a  stately  and  elegant  plant,  far  more 
beautiful  than  many  a  pampered  pet  of  the  green- 

II 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

house?  But  this  is  not  a  corn  story  —  I  shall 
hope  to  be  heard  on  the  neglected  beauty  of 
many  common  things,  some  day  —  and  we  can  for 
the  time  overlook  the  syrup  of  the  sugar  maple 
for  its  delicate  blossoms,  coming  long  after  the 
red  and  the  silver  are  done  with  their  flowers. 
These  sugar -maple  blooms  hang  on  slender 
stems ;  they  come  with  the  first  leaves,  and  are 
very  diflferent  in  appearance  from  the  flowers  of 
other  maples.  The  observer  will  have  no 
trouble  in  recognizing  them  after  the  first 
successful  attempt,  even  though  he  may  be 
baffled  in  comparing  the  maple  leaves  by  the 
apparent  similarity  of  the  foliage  of  the  Nor- 
way, the  sugar  and  the  sycamore  maples  at 
certain    stages    of    growth. 

After  all,  it  is  the  autumn  time  that  brings 
this  maple  most  strongly  before  us,  for  it 
flaunts  its  banners  of  scarlet  and  yellow  in  the 
woods,  along  the  roads,  with  an  insouciant  swing 
of  its  own.  The  sugar  possibility  is  forgotten, 
and  it  is  a  pure  autumn  pleasure  to  appreciate 
the  richness  of  color,  to  be  soon  followed  by 
the  more  sober  cognizance  of  the  elegance  of 
outline    and    form    disclosed   when    all    the    deli- 

12 


nVJP: 

Wi'im 

iVvw 

\    dm'  if/^  A 

^V,ln 

\m('>4 

.Mi 

.  yfy                  '■■  . 

^^^^^^^^^^^B^ .  vi  • 

■I^^H 

A  mature   sycamore   maple 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

cate  tracery  of  twig  and  bough  stands  revealed 
against  winter's  frosty  sky.  The  sugar  maple 
has  a  curious  habit  of  ripening  or  reddening 
some  of  its  branches  very  early,  as  if  it  was 
hanging  out  a  warning  signal  to  the  squirrels 
and  the  chipmunks  to  hurry  along  with  their 
storing  of  nuts  against  the  winter's  need.  I  re- 
member being  puzzled  one  August  morning  as 
I  drove  along  one  of  Delaware's  flat,  flat  roads, 
to  know^  what  could  possibly  have  produced 
the  brilliant,  blazing  scarlet  banner  that  hung 
across  a  distant  wood  as  if  a  dozen  red  flags 
were  being  there  displayed.  Closer  approach 
disclosed  one  rakish  branch  on  a  sugar  maple, 
all  afire  with  color,  while  every  other  leaf  on 
the   tree    yet    held    the    green    of   summer. 

Again  in  the  mountains,  one  late  summer, 
half  a  lusty  sugar  maple  set  up  a  conflagration 
which,  I  was  informed,  presaged  its  early 
death.  But  the  next  summer  it  grew  as  freely 
as  ever,  and  retained  its  sober  green  until  the 
cool  days  and  nights;  just  as  if  the  ebullition 
of  the  season  previous  was  but  a  breaking  out 
of  extra  color  life,  rather  than  a  suggestion 
of  weakness    or    death. 

M 


Sycamore  maple  blossoms 

The  Norway  maple  is  botanically  Acer  plata- 
noides^  really  meaning  plane -like  maple,  from  the 
similarity  of  its  leaves  to  those  of  the  European 
plane.  The  sycamore  maple  is  Acer  Pseudo-plat- 
anusj  which,  being  translated,  means  that  old 
Linnaeus  thought  it  a  sort  of  false  plane -like 
maple.  Both  are  European  species,  but  both  are 
far  more  familiar,  as  street  and  lawn  trees,  to  us 
dwellers  in  cities  than  are  many  of  our  purely 
American  species.  There  is  a  little  difiference  in 
the  bark  of  the  two,  and  the  leaves  of  the  syca- 
more, while  almost  identical  in  form,  are  darker 

15 


GETTING   JC^UJINTED    PFITH    THE   TREES 

and  thicker  than  those  of  the  Norway,  and  they 
are  whitish  underneath,  instead  of  light  green. 
The  habit  of  the  two  is  twin-Uke;  they  can 
scarcely  be  distinguished  when  the  leaves  are 
oflf.  But  the  flowers  are  totally  different,  and 
one  would  hardly  believe  them  to  be  akin,  judg- 
ing only  by  appearances.  The  young  leaves  of 
the  sycamore  maple  are  lush  and  vigorous  when 
the  long,  grape-like  flower-clusters  appear  below 
the  twigs.  "Racemes"  they  are,  botanically — 
and  that  is  another  truly  good  scientific  word  — 
while  the  beautiful  Norway  maple's  flowers 
must  stand  the  angular  designation  of  "cor- 
ymbs." But  don't  miss  looking  for  the  syca- 
more maple's  long,  pendulous  racemes.  They 
seem  more  grape-like  than  grape  blossoms  ;  and 
they  stay  long,  apparently,  the  transition  from 
flower  to  fruit  being  very  gradual.  I  mind  me 
of  a  sycamore  I  pass  every  winter  day,  with 
its  dead  fruit- clusters,  a  reminiscence  of  the 
flower- racemes,  swinging  in  the  frosty  breeze, 
waiting  until  the  spring  push  of  the  life  within 
the  twigs  shoves  them  oflf. 

To    be    ready  to    recognize  this    maple  at  the 
right   time,  it   is  well   to   observe   and    mark  the 

i6 


A    STORY    OF   SOME    MAPLES 

difference  between  it  and  the  Norway  in  the 
summer  time,  noting  the  leaves  and  the  bark 
as    suggested    above. 

Another  maple  that  is  different  is  one  vari- 
ously known  as  box -elder,  ash -leaved  maple,  or 
negundo.  Of  rapid  growth,  it  makes  a  lusty, 
irregular  tree.  Its  green- barked,  withe -like 
limbs  seem  willing  to  grow  in  any  direction  — 
down,  up,  sidewise  —  and  the  result  is  a  pecu- 
liar formlessness  that  has  its  own  merit.  I 
think  of  a  fringe  of  box- elders  along  Paxton 
Creek,   decked  in   early   spring   with   true  maple 


Flowers   of    the   ash -leaved    maple 

17 


GETTING   JC^JINTED    PTITH    THE    TREES 

flowers  on  thread-like  stems,  each  cluster  sur- 
mounted by  soft  green  foliage  apparently  bor- 
rowed from  the  ash,  and  it  seems  that  no  other 
tree  could  fit  better  into  the  place  or  the  sea- 
son. Then  I  remember  another,  a  single  stately 
tree  that  has  had  a  great  field  all  to  itself,  and 
stands  up  in  superb  dignity,  dominating  even 
the  group  of  pin -oaks  nearest  to  it.  'Twas 
the  surprising  mist  of  bloom  on  this  tree  that 
took  me  up  the  field  on  a  run,  one  spring 
day,  when  the  running  was  sweet  in  the 
air,  but  sticky  underfoot.  The  color  effect  of 
the  flowers  is  most  delicate,  and  almost  inde- 
scribable in  ordinary  chromatic  terms.  Don't 
miss  the  acquaintance  of  the  ash -leaved  maple 
at  its  flowering  time,  in  the  very  flush  of  the 
springtime,  my  tree -loving  friends! 

I  have  not  found  a  noticeable  fragrance  in 
the  flowers  of  the  box -elder,  such  as  is  very 
apparent  where  there  is  a  group  of  Norway 
maples  in  bloom  together.  The  red  maples 
also  give  to  the  air  a  faint  and  delightfully 
spicy  odor,  under  favorable  conditions.  May 
I  hint  that  the  lusty  box-elder,  when  it  is 
booming     along     its     spring      growth,     furnishes 

i8 


The    ash- leaved    maples    in    bloom 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    "THE   TREES 

a  loose-barked  whistle  stick  about  as  good  as 
those  that  come  from  the  willow?  The  gen- 
erous growth  that  provides  its  loosening  sap 
can  also  spare  a  few  twigs  for  the  boys,  and 
they  will  be  all  the  better  for  a  melodious 
reason    for  the   spring    ramble. 

The  striped  maple  of  Pennsylvania,  a  com- 
paratively rare  and  entirely  curious  small  tree 
or  large  shrub,  is  not  well  known,  though 
growing  freely  as  "elkwood"  and  "moose- 
wood"  in  the  Alleghanies,  because  it  is  rather 
hard  to  transplant,  and  thus  offers  no  induce- 
ments to  the  nurserymen.  These  good  people, 
like  the  rest  of  us,  move  along  the  lines  of 
least  resistance,  wherefore  many  a  fine  tree  or 
fruit  is  rare  to  us,  because  shy  or  difficult  of 
growth,  or  perhaps  unsymmetrical.  The  fine 
Rhode  Island  Greening  apple  is  unpopular 
because  the  young  tree  is  crooked,  while  the 
leather-skinned  and  punk- fleshed  Ben  Davis 
is  a  model  of  symmetry  and  rapidity  of  growth. 
Our  glorious  tulip  tree  of  the  woods,  because 
of  its  relative  difficulty  in  transplanting,  has  had 
to  be  insisted  upon  from  the  nurserymen  by 
those    who    know    its    superb    beauty.     For    the 

20 


A    STORY    OF   SOME    MAPLES 


same  reason  this  small  charming  maple,  with 
the  large,  soft,  comfortable  leaves  upon  which 
the  deer  love  to  browse,  is  kept  from  showing 
its  delicate  June  bloom  and  its  remarkable 
longitudinally    striped    bark    in    our    home 

grounds.  I  hope 
some  maple  friends 
will  look  for  it,  and, 
finding,  admire  this, 
the  aristocrat  among 
our   native   species. 

The  mountain  maple 
— the    nurserymen    call 
it  Acer  spicatum — is  an- 
other   native    of    rather 
dwarf    growth.       It    is 
bushy,  and  not  remark- 
able   in    leaf,   its    claim 
for    distinction    being     in 
its     flowers    and    samaras, 
which  are  held  saucily  up, 
above     the     branches     on 
which    they    grow,    rather 
than    drooping    modestly, 
as  other  maples  gracefully 

21 


GETTING   AC^AINTED   WITH    THE    TREES 

bear  their  bloom  and  fruit.  These  shiny  seeds 
or  keys  are  brightly  scarlet,  as  well,  and  thus  very 
attractive  in  color.  There  is  a  reason  for  this, 
in  nature's  economy;  for  while  the  loosely  hung 
samaras  of  the  other  maples  are  distributed  by 
the  breezes,  the  red  pods  of  this  mountain  maple 
hold  stiffly  upward  to  attract  the  birds  upon 
whom  it  largely  depends  for  that  sowing  which 
must  precede  its   reproduction. 

Of  the  other  maples  of  America  —  a  score  of 
them  there  are  —  I  might  write  pages,  to  weari- 
ness. The  black  maple  of  the  Eastern  woods, 
the  large-leaved  maples  of  the  West,  these 
and  many  more  are  in  this  great  family,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  many  interesting  cultivated 
forms  and  variations  introduced  from  European 
nurseries,  and  most  serviceable  in  formal  orna- 
mental planting.  But  I  have  told  of  those  I 
know  best  and  those  that  any  reader  can  know 
as  well  in  one  season,  if  he  looks  for  them  with 
the  necessary  tree  love  which  is  but  a  fine  form 
of  true  love  of  God's  creation.  This  love,  once 
implanted,  means  surer  protection  for  the  trees, 
otherwise  so  defenseless  against  the  unthinking 
vandalism  of  commercialism  or   incompetence  — 

22 


J    STORY    OF   SOME    MAPLES 

z  vandalism  that  has  not  only  devastated  our 
American  forests,  but  mutilated  shamefully  many 
trees  of  priceless  value  in   and  about  our  cities. 

Of  the  Japanese  maples  —  their  leaves  seem- 
ingly a  showing  of  the  ingenuity  of  these  Yankees 
of  the  Orient,  in  their  twists  of  form  and  depths 
of  odd  color  —  I  could  tell  a  tale,  but  it  would 
be  of  the  tree  nursery  and  not  of  the  broad  out- 
doors. Let  us  close  the  book  and  go  afield,  in 
park  or  meadow,  on  street  or  lawn,  and  look  to 
the  maples  for  an  unsuspected  feast  of  bloom, 
if  it  be  spring,  or  for  richness  of  foliage  in  sum- 
mer and  autumn ;  and  in  coldest  winter  let  us 
notice  the  delicate  twigs  and  yet  sturdy  structure 
of  this  tree  family  that  is  most  of  all  character- 
istic of  the  home,  in  city  or  country. 


23 


%\)t  (KrototI)  of 
tlje  €)aft 


*'«W.  COLLEGE  LrWABY. 


Cl)e  dBrotDtl)  of  tl)e  €>afe 

THE  old  saw  has  it,  "Great  oaks  from 
little  acorns  grow,"  and  all  of  us  who 
remember  the  saying  have  thus  some 
idea  of  what  the  beginning  of  an  oak  is.  But 
what  of  the  beginning  of  the  acorn?  In  a 
general  way,  one  inferentially  supposes  that 
there  must  be  a  flower  somewhere  in  the  life- 
history  of  the  towering  white  oak  that  has 
defied  the  storms  of  centuries  and  seems  a 
type  of  everything  sturdy  and  strong  and  mas- 
culine ;  but  what  sort  of  a  flower  could  one 
imagine  as  the  source  of  so  much  majesty? 
We  know  of  the  great  magnolias,  with  blooms 
befitting  the  richness  of  the  foliage  that  follows 
them.  We  see,  and  some  of  us  admire,  the 
exquisitely  delicate  blossoms  of  that  splendid 
American  tree,  the  tulip  or  whitewood.  We 
inhale  with  delight  the  fragrance  that  makes 
notable  the  time  when  the  common  locust 
sends    forth    its    white     racemes     of     loveliness. 

27 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

But  we  miss,  many  of  us,  the  flowering  of 
the  oaks  in  early  spring,  and  we  do  not  rea- 
lize "^that  this  family  of  trees,  most  notable  for 
rugged  strength,  has  its  bloom  of  beginning 
at  the  other  end  of  the  scale,  in  flowers  of 
delicate    coloring   and    rather    diminutive    size. 

The  reason  I  missed  appreciating  the  flow- 
ers of  the  oak  —  they  are  quite  new  to  me  — 
for  some  years  of  tree  admiration  was  because 
of  the  distracting  accompaniment  the  tree  gives 
to  the  blooms.  Some  trees  —  most  of  the  ma- 
ples, for  instance  —  send  out  their  flowers  boldly 
ahead  of  the  foliage,  and  it  is  thus  easy  to 
see  what  is  happening  above  your  head,  as  you 
stroll  along  drinking  in  the  spring's  nectar  of 
spicy  air.  Others,  again,  have  such  showy 
blooms  that  the  mass  of  foliage  only  accentu- 
ates their  attractiveness,  and  it  is  not  possible 
to    miss    them. 

But  the  oak  is  different;  it  is  as  modest 
as  it  is  strong,  and  its  bloom  is  nearly  sur- 
rounded by  the  opening  leaves  in  most  seasons 
and  in  most  of  the  species  I  am  just  begin- 
ing  to  be  acquainted  with.  Then,  too,  these 
opening  leaves  are  of   such    indescribable  colors 

28 


The    swamp    white    oak    in    winter 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

—  if  *  the  delicate  chromatic  tints  they  reflect 
to  the  eye  may  be  so  strongly  named  —  that 
they  harmonize,  and  do  not  contrast,  with  the 
flowers.  It  is  with  them  almost  as  with  a 
fearless  chipmunk  whose  acquaintance  I  culti- 
vated one  summer  —  he  was  gay  with  stripes  of 
soft  color,  yet  he  so  fitted  any  surroundings 
he  chose  to  be  in  that  when  he  was  quiet  he 
simply  disappeared !  The  oak's  flowers  and  its 
exquisite  unfolding  of  young  foliage  combine 
in  one  effect,  and  it  is  an  efTect  so  beautiful 
that  one  easily  fails  to  separate  its  parts,  or  to 
see  which  of  the  mass  of  soft  pink,  gray, 
yellow  and  green  is  bloom  and  which  of 
it    is    leafage. 

Take  the  pin -oak,  for  instance,  and  note 
the  softness  of  the  greenery  above  its  flowers. 
Hardly  can  we  define  the  young  leaves  as 
green  —  they  are  all  tints,  and  all  beautiful. 
This  same  pin-oak,  by  the  way  (I  mean  the 
one  the  botanists  call  ^ercus  palustris) ,  is  a 
notable  contradiction  of  the  accepted  theory 
that  an  oak  of  size  and  dignity  cannot  be 
reared  in  a  lifetime.  There  are  hundreds  of 
lusty   pin-oaks   all   over   the    Eastern    States   that 

30  1^^ 


R 

VV 

*,^  ^ 
W^^^ 

M^Bi 

i:^  -'A  /*  '^ '.^■^ir''''^^^^"-''^ 

m 

iir. 

Flowers   of  the    pin-oak 

are  shading  the  homes  of  the  wise  men  who 
planted  them  in  youth,  and  they  might  well 
adorn  our  parks  and  avenues  in  place  of  many 
far  less  beautiful  and  permanent  trees.  With 
ordinary  care,  and  in  good  soil,  the  pin-oak 
grows  rapidly,  and  the  characteristic  spreading 
habit  and  the  slightly  down-drooping  branches 
are  always  attractive.  In  its  age  it  has  not 
the  ruggedness  of  its  kin,  though  it  assumes 
a    stately    and    somewhat    formal    habit,    and,    I 

31 


GETTING  JC^UJINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

must  confess,  accumulates  some  ragged  dead 
branches    in    its    interior. 

This  raggedness  is  easily  cared  for,  for  the 
tree  requires  —  and  few  trees  do  —  no  "trim- 
ming" of  its  outer  branches.  The  interior 
twigs  that  the  rapid  growth  of  the  tree  has 
deprived  of  air  and  light  can  be  quickly  and 
easily  removed.  In  Washington,  where  street- 
tree  planting  has  been  and  is  intelligently 
managed  under  central  authority,  the  avenues 
of  pin-oaks  are  a  splendid  feature  of  the  great 
boulevards  which  are  serving  already  as  a  model 
to  the  whole  country.  Let  us  plant  oaks,  and 
relieve  the  monotony  of  too  many  maples,  pop- 
lars and  horse-chestnuts  along  our  city  and 
village   highways. 

I  like,  too,  to  see  the  smooth  little  acorns 
of  the  pin-oak  before  the  leaves  drop ;  they 
seem  so  finished  and  altogether  pleasing,  and 
vv^ith  the  leaves  make  a  classical  decorative 
motive   worth    more    attention    from    designers. 

While  I  am  innocent  of  either  ability  or 
intent  to  write  botanically  of  the  great  oak 
family,  I  ought  perhaps  to  transcribe  the 
information     that     the     flowers     we     see  —  if    we 

32 


THE    GROTFTH    OF    THE    OAK 

look  just  at  the  right  time  in  the  spring  —  are 
known  as  ^^staminate  catkins," — which,  being 
interpreted,  means  that  there  are  also  pistillate 
flowers,  much  less  conspicuous,  but  exceedingly- 
necessary  if  acorns  are  to  result;  and  also  the 
fact  that  the  familiar  "pussy-willow"  of  our 
acquaintance  is  the  same  form  of  bloom  —  the 
catkin,  or  ament.  I  ought  to  say,  too,  that 
some  of  the  oaks  perfect  acorns  from  blossoms 
in  one  year,  while  others  must  grow  through 
two  seasons  before  they  are  mature.  Botanically, 
the  oak  family  is  nearly  a  world  family,  and 
we  Americans,  though  possessed  of  many  spe- 
cies, have  no  monopoly  of  it.  Indeed,  if  I 
may  dare  to  refer  the  reader  to  that  great 
storehouse  of  words,  the  Encyclopaedia  Britan- 
nica,  I  think  he  will  find  that  the  oak  is 
there  very  British,  and  that  the  English  oak, 
surely  a  magnificent  tree  in  England  anyw^ay, 
is   patriotically   glorified    to    the   writer. 

But  we  want  to  talk  of  some  of  our  own 
oaks.  The  one  thoroughly  characteristic  is 
surely  the  noble  white  oak,  a  tree  most  admi- 
rable in  every  way,  and  most  widely  distributed 
over    the    Northern    States.     Its    majestic    form, 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    fHE    TREES 

as  it  towers  high  above  the  ordinary  works  of 
man,  conveys  the  repose  of  conscious  strength 
to  the  beholder.  There  is  a  great  oak  in 
Connecticut  to  which  I  make  pilgrimages,  and 
from  which  I  always  get  a  message  of  rest 
and  peace.  There  it  stands,  strong,  full-pow- 
ered, minding  little  the  most  furious  storms, 
a  benediction  to  every  one  who  will  but  lift 
his  eyes.  There  it  has  stood  in  full  majesty 
for  years  unknown,  for  it  was  a  great  oak,  so 
run  the  title-deeds,  way  back  in  1636,  when 
first  the  white  man  began  to  own  land  in  the 
Connecticut  Valley.  At  first  sight  it  seems  not 
large,  for  its  perfect  symmetry  conceals  its 
great  size ;  but  its  impression  grows  as  one 
looks  at  it,  until  it  seems  to  fill  the  whole  land- 
scape. I  have  sat  under  it  in  spring,  when  yet 
its  leafy  canopy  was  incomplete ;  I  have  looked 
into  its  green  depths  in  midsummer,  when  its 
grateful  shadow  refreshed  the  highway;  I  have 
seen  the  sun  set  in  redness  beyond  its  bare 
limbs,  the  snowy  countryside  emphasizing  its 
noble  lines ;  I  have  tried  to  fathom  the  mystery 
in  its  sturdy  heart  overhead  when  the  full 
moon    rode    in  the    sky;    and   always  that  "great 

34 


THE    GROWTH    OF    THE    OAK 

oak  of  Glastonbury"  has  soothed  and  cheered 
and  rested,  and  taken  me  nearer  the  Giver  of 
all    such    good    to    restless    humanity. 

Do  I  wonder  at  my  friend  who  has  built 
his  home  where  he  may  look  always  at  this 
white  oak,  or  that  he  raged  in  anger  when  a 
crabbed  neighbor  ruthlessly  cut  down  a  superb 
tree  of  the  same  kind  that  was  on  his  piop- 
erty  line,  in  order  that  he  might  run  his 
barbed -wire  fence  straight?  No;  I  agree  with 
him  that  this  tree -murderer  has  probably  a 
barbed-wire  heart,  and  we  expect  that  his 
future    existence   will   be    treeless,    at   least! 

Sometimes  this  same  white  oak  adapts  itself 
to  the  bank  of  a  stream,  though  its  true 
character  develops  best  in  the  drier  ground. 
Its  strength  has  been  its  bane,  for  the  value 
of  its  timber  has  caused  many  a  great  isolated 
specimen  to  be  cut  down.  It  is  fine  to  know 
that  some  States — Massachusetts,  Connecticut, 
and  Rhode  Island  also,  I  think  —  have  given 
to  trees  along  highways,  and  in  situations  where 
they  are  part  of  the  highway  landscape,  the 
protection  of  a  wise  law.  Under  this  law  each 
town    appoints    a    tree-warden,    serving    without 

35 


The   swamp   white  oak   in   early   spring 


THE    GROWTH    OF    THE    OAK 

pay  (and  therefore  with  love) ,  who  may  seal  to 
the  town  by  his  label  such  trees  as  are  truly 
the  common  possession,  regardless  of  whose  land 
they  happen  to  be  on.  If  the  owner  desires 
to  cut  down  a  tree  thus  designated,  he  must 
first  obtain  permission,  after  stating  satisfactory 
reasons,  of  the  annual  town-meeting,  and  this 
is  not  so  easy  as  to  make  cutting  very  fre- 
quent. The  whole  country  should  have  such  a 
law,  and  I  should  enjoy  its  application  right 
here  in  Pennsylvania,  where  oaks  of  a  hundred 
years  have  been  cut  down  to  make  room  for 
a  whisky  sign,  and  where  a  superb  pin-oak 
that  I  passed  today  is  devoted  to  an  igno- 
minious use.  If  I  may  venture  to  become 
hortatory,  let  me  say  that  the  responsibility  for 
the  preservation  of  the  all-too-few  remaining 
great  primeval  trees,  and  of  their  often  notable 
progeny,  in  our  Eastern  States,  rests  with 
those  who  care  for  trees,  not  alone  with  those 
who  ought  to  care.  To  talk  about  the  great- 
ness and  beauty  of  a  fine  oak  or  maple  or 
tulip,  to  call  attention  to  its  shade  value,  and 
to  appeal  to  the  cupidity  of  the  ground  owner 
by   estimating    how  much    less    his    property  will 

37 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

be  worth  when  the  trees  are  gone  or  have  been 
mishandled,  will-  aid  to  create  the  necessary 
public  sentiment.  And  to  provide  wise  laws,  as 
may  be  often  done  with  proper  attention,  is 
the  plain  duty  and  the  high  privilege  of  the 
tree-loving  citizen.  The  trees  are  defenseless, 
and  they  are  often  unreplaceable ;  if  you  love 
them  protect  them  as  you  would  your  children. 
The  white-oak  leaf  is  the  most  familiar  and 
characteristic,  perhaps,  of  the  family;  but  other 
species,  close  to  the  white  oak  in  habit,  show 
foliage  of  a  very  different  appearance.  The 
swamp  white  oak,  for  instance,  is  a  noble  tree, 
and  in  winter  particularly  its  irregular  branches 
give  it  an  especial  expression  of  rugged  strength 
as  it  grows  along  a  brookside ;  but  its  leaves 
smooth  up  on  the  edges,  giving  only  a  hint 
of  the  deep  serrations  that  typify  its  upland 
brother.  Deeply  green  above  are  these  leaves 
and  softly  white  below,  and  in  late  summer 
there  appears,  here  and  there,  on  a  stout 
stem,  a  most  attractive  acorn  of  large  size. 
Its  curious  cup  gives  a  hint,  or  more  than  a 
hint,  as  to  the  special  designating  character  of 
another   oak,    the   mossy- cup    or   bur.     This   lat- 

38 


An  old   post-oak 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

ter  species  is  beautiful  in  its  habit,  rich  in  its 
foHage,  and  the  fringed  or  mossed  acorns  are 
of   a    remarkable    size. 

Of  all  the  oaks,  the  sturdy  but  not  lofty 
post-oak  spreads  the  richest  display  of  foliage. 
Its  peculiar  habit  leads  to  the  even  placing 
of  its  violoncello-shaped  leaves,  and  its  generous 
crop  of  acorns  gives  added  distinction  in  late 
summer.  It  is  fine  in  the  forest,  and  a 
notable    ornament    anywhere. 

It  has  been  said  that  a  proper  penance  for 
an  offending  botanist  would  be  a  compulsory 
separation  and  description  of  the  involved  and 
complicated  goldenrod  family;  and  I  would 
suggest  that  a  second  edition  of  the  same 
penance  might  be  a  requirement  to  name  off- 
hand the  first  dozen  oak  trees  the  same  poor 
botanist  might  meet.  So  much  do  the  foliage, 
the  bark,  and  the  habit  of  growth  vary,  and  so 
considerable  is  the  difference  between  individ- 
uals of  the  same  species,  that  the  wisest  expert 
is  likely  to  be  the  most  conservative.  An 
unbotanical  observer,  who  comes  at  the  family 
just  because  he  loves  trees  in  general,  and  is 
poking    his    eyes    and    his    camera   into    unusual 

40 


THE    GROWTH    OF    THE    OAK 

places,  doesn't  make  close  determinations ;  he 
tells  what  he  thinks  he  sees,  and  leaves  exact 
work  to    the    scientists. 

There  are  some  oaks,  however,  that  have 
borrowed  the  foliage  of  other  trees  so  cunningly 
that  one  at  first  scouts  the  possibility  of  the 
Quercus  parentage,  until  he  sees  an  undeniable 
acorn  thrusting  itself  forward.  Then  he  is  sure 
that  what  seemed  a  rather  peculiarly  shaped 
chestnut  tree,  with    somewhat    stumpy   foliage,  is 


\. 

ji^\ 

,^  J 

^^^ 

> 

JHli 

m 

1.-.- 

^ 

- 

-:,^ 

Q 

1 

A  blooming  twig  of  the  swamp  white  oak 

.41 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

none  other  than  the  chestnut-oak.  A  fine  tree 
it  is,  too,  this  same  chestnut-oak,  with  its  mas- 
querading foliage  of  deep  green,  its  upright  and 
substantial  habit,  its  rather  long  and  aristocratic- 
looking  acorns.  The  authorities  tell  that  its 
wood,  too,  is  brownish  and  valuable;  but  we 
tree-lovers  are  not  enthusiastic  over  mere  tim- 
ber values,  because  that  means  the  killing  of 
the    trees. 

The  willow-oak  will  not  deceive,  because  its 
habit  is  so  oak-like  and  so  willow-less ;  but  its 
foliage  is  surely  borrowed  from  its  graceful  and 
more  rapidly  growing  neighbor.  Not  so  large., 
by  any  means,  as  the  white  oak  or  the  chestnut- 
oak,  it  has  somewhat  rough  and  reddish  bark, 
and  its  acorns  are  perfected  in  the  second  year 
of  their  growth,  close  to  the  twigs,  in  the  way 
of  the  pin-oak.  The  general  aspect  of  the  tree 
is  upright,  rather  than  spreading,  and  it  par- 
takes thus  of  the  maple  character  in  its  land- 
scape eflect.  The  willow-oak  is  one  of  the 
species  I  would,  if  I  were  writing  a  tree-plant- 
ing article,  heartily  commend  to  those  who 
wish  to  add  adornment  to  the  countryside  that 
shall  be  permanent  and  satisfactory.     Just  a  hint 

42 


THE    GROTFTH    OF    THE    OAK 

here :  nursery-grown  oaks,  now  obtainable  from 
any  modern  establishment,  have  usually  been 
frequently  moved  or  transplanted,  as  the  trade 
term  goes,  and  this  means  that  they  have 
established  a  somewhat  self-contained  root  sys- 
tem, which  will  give  them  far  greater  vigor 
and  cause  them  to  take  hold  sooner  when 
finally  placed  in  a  situation  where  they  are  to 
be  permanent  features.  The  reason  is  plain : 
the  forest  seedling,  in  the  fierce  struggle  for 
existence  usually  prevailing,  must  send  its  roots 
far  and  wide  for  food,  and  when  it  is  dug  out 
their  feeding  capacity  is  so  seriously  curtailed  as 
to  check  the  growth  of  the  tree  for  many  years. 
The  nursery-grown  tree,  on  the  contrary,  has 
been  brought  up  "by  hand,"  and  its  food  has 
always  been  convenient  to  it,  leading  to  more 
rapid  growth  and  a  more  compact  root  system. 
I  only  interject  this  prosaic  fact  here  in  the 
hope  that  some  of  my  tree-loving  readers  will 
undertake  to  plant  some  oaks  instead  of  only 
the  soft -wooded  and  less  permanent  maples, 
poplars,    and    the    like. 

Another  simulative   leaf  is   that  of   the  laurel- 
oak,   and  it  is   color   and    gloss  as  well  as  shape 

.43 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

that  have  been  borrowed  from  its  humbler 
neighbor  in  the  forest.  The  shining  green  of 
the  laurel  is  seen  in  these  oak  leaves ;  they  are 
also  half  evergreen,  thus  being  one  of  the 
family  particularly  belonging  to  our  Southern 
States,  and  hardly  enduring  the  chill  of  the 
winters  north  of  Virginia.  It  is  one  of  the 
galaxy  of  oaks  I  remember  as  providing  a 
special  interest  in  the  Georgia  forests,  where 
the  long -leaved  pine  also  gave  a  new  tree 
sensation  to  the  visitor  from  the  North,  who 
at  first  could  hardly  imagine  what  those  lovely 
little  green  fountains  of  foliage  were  that  he 
saw  along  the  roadside  and  in  the  woods.  The 
Georgia  oaks  seem  to  me  to  have  a  richness 
of  foliage,  a  color  and  substance  and  shine, 
that  compare  only  with  the  excellence  of  two 
other  products  of  the  same  State  —  the  peach 
and  the  watermelon.  The  long  summer  and 
the  plenitude  of  sunshine  seem  to  weave  into 
these  products  luxuriance  found  nowhere  else ; 
and  when  one  sees  for  the  first  time  a  happy, 
rollicking  bunch  of  round-eyed  negro  children, 
innocent  alike  of  much  clothing  or  any  trouble, 
mixing  up  with   the  juicy  Georgia  melon   under 

44 


THE    GROTFTH    OF    THE    OAK 

the  shade  of  a  luxuriant  oak,  he  gets  a  new 
conception  of  at  least  one  part  of  the  race 
problem! 

One  of  the  things  I  wanted  much  to  see 
when  I  first  traveled  South  was  the  famed  live- 
oak,  the  majesty  and  the  mournfulness  of 
which  had  been  long  sung  into  me.  Perhaps 
I  expected  too  much,  as  I  did  of  the  palmetto, 
another  part  of  my  quest,  but  surely  there  was 
disappointment  when  I  was  led,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Manatee  River  in  Florida,  to  see  a 
famous  live-oak.  It  was  tall  and  grand,  but 
its  adornment  of  long,  trailing  gray  Spanish 
moss,  which  was  to  have  attached  the  sadness 
to  it,  seemed  merely  to  make  it  unkempt  and 
uncomfortable.  I  was  instantly  reminded  of  a 
tree  at  home  in  the  far  North  that  I  had  never 
thought  particularly  beautiful,  but  which  now, 
by  comparison,  took  on  an  attractiveness  it  has 
never  since  lost.  Imagine  a  great  spreading 
weeping  willow  turned  dingy  gray,  and  you 
have  a  fair  picture  of  a  moss-covered  live-oak ; 
but  you  will  prefer  it  green,  as  is  the  willow, 
I    believe. 

One  day  a  walk  about   Savannah,   which  city 

45 


GETTING  ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

has  many  splendid  live-oaks  in  its  parks  and 
squares,  involved  me  in  a  sudden  shower,  when, 
presto !  the  weeping  willow  of  the  North  was 
reincarnated  before  my  eyes,  for  the  falling  rain 
turned  the  dingy  moss  pendants  of  the  live- 
oak  to  the  whitish  green  that  makes  the  willow 
such  a  delightful  color-note  in  early  spring. 
I  have  been  thankful  often  for  that  shower, 
for  it  gave  a  better  feeling  about  the  live-oak^ 
and    made    me    admire    the   weeping   willow. 

The  live-oak,  by  the  way,  has  a  leaf  very 
little  like  the  typical  oak  —  it  is  elliptical  in 
shape  and  smooth  in  outline.  The  curious 
parasitic  moss  that  so  frequently  covers  the 
tree   obscures    the    really   handsome    foliage. 

The  English  Oak,  grand  tree  that  it  is, 
grows  well  in  America,  as  everything  English 
should  by  right,  and  there  are  fine  trees  of 
this  ^ercus  Robur  on  Long  Island.  The  acorns 
are  of  unusual  elegance,  as  the  photograph 
which    shows    them    will   prove. 

The  red  oak,  the  black  oak,  the  scarlet  oak, 
all  splendid  forest  trees  of  the  Northeast,  are 
in  the  group  of  confusion  that  can  be  readily 
separated  only  by  the  timber-cruiser,  who  knows 

46. 


THE    GROTFTH    OF    THE    OAK 


every  tree  in  the  forest  for  its  economic  value, 
or  by  the  botanist,  with  his  limp-bound  Gray^s 
Manual  in  hand.  I  confess  to  bewilderment 
in  five  minutes  after  the  differences  have  been 
explained  to  me,  and  I  enjoyed,  not  long  ago, 
the  confusion  of  a  skilful  nurseryman  who  was 
endeavoring  to  show  me  his  young  trees  of 
red  oak  which  the  label  proved  to  be  scarlet ! 
But  the  splendidly  effective  trees  themselves 
can  be  fully  appreciated,  and  the  distinctions 
will  appear  as  one  studies  carefully  the  features 
of  these  living  gifts  of  nature's  greenness. 
The  trees  wait  on  one,  and  once  the  habit  of 
appreciation    and    investigation    is    formed,    each 


Acorns  of  the  English  oak 

47 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

walk  afield,  in  forest  or  park,  leads  to  the 
acquirement  of  some  new  bit  of  tree-lore,  that 
becomes  more  precious  and  delightful  as  it  is 
passed  on  and  commented  upon  in  association 
with  some  other  member  of  the  happily  grow- 
ing   fraternity    of    nature-lovers. 

These  oak  notes  are  not  intended  to  be 
complete,  but  only  to  suggest  some  points 
for  investigation  and  appreciation  to  my  fellows 
in  the  brotherhood.  I  have  never  walked 
between  Trenton  and  New  York,  and  there- 
fore never  made  the  desired  acquaintance  with 
the  scrub-oaks  along  the  way.  Nor  have  I 
dipped  as  fully  into  the  oak  treasures  of  the 
Arnold  Arboretum  as  I  want  to  some  day. 
But  my  camera  is  yet  available  and  the  trees 
are  waiting;  the  tree  love  is  growing  and  the 
tree  friends  are  inviting,  and  together  we  will 
add  to  the  oak  knowledge  and  to  that  thankful- 
ness for  God  and  life  and  love  and  friends  that 
the  trees   do    most   constantly   cause    to    flourish. 


48 


IN  popular  estimation,  the  pines  seem  to 
belong  to  the  North,  not  quite  so  exclu- 
sively as  do  the  palms  to  the  South.  The 
ragged,  picturesque  old  pines,  spruces  and 
hemlocks  of  our  remembrance  carry  with  them 
the  thought  of  great  endurance,  long  life  and 
snowy  forests.  We  think  of  them,  too,  as 
belonging  to  the  mountains,  not  to  the  plains ; 
as  clothing  steep  slopes  with  their  varied  deep 
greens  rather  than  as  standing  against  the 
sky-line  of  the  sea.  Yet  I  venture  to  think 
that  the  most  of  us  in  the  East  see  oftenest 
the  pines  peculiar  to  the  lowlands,  as  we  flit 
from  city  to  city  over  the  steel  highways  of 
travel,  and  have  most  to  do,  in  an  econom- 
ical sense,  with  a  pine  that  does  not  come 
north  of  the  Carolinas  —  the  yellow  pine  which 
furnishes    our    familiar    house  -  flooring. 

The    pine    family,  as   we    discuss  it,  is  not  aJi 
pines,    in   exactitude  —  it   includes    many   diverse 

SI 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

trees  that  the  botanist  describes  as  conifers. 
These  cone -bearing  trees  are  nearly  all  ever- 
greens—  that  is,  the  foliage  persists  the  year 
round,  instead  of  being  deciduous,  as  the  leaf- 
dropping  maples,  oaks,  birches,  and  the  like 
are  scientifically  designated.  Historically  the 
pines  are  of  hoary  age,  for  they  are  closely 
related  to  the  growths  that  furnished  .the  geo- 
logic coal  measures  stored  up  in  the  founda- 
tions of  the  earth  for  our  use  now.  Econom- 
ically, too,  all  the  pine  family  together  is  of 
vast  importance  —  "the  most  important  order  of 
forest  trees  in  the  economy  of  civilized  man," 
says  Dr.  Fernow;  for,  as  he  adds,  the  cone- 
bearing  trees  "have  furnished  the  bulk  of  the 
material  of  which  our  civilization  is  built." 
As  usual,  civilization  has  destroyed  ruthlessly, 
thoughtlessly,  almost  viciously,  in  using  this 
material ;  wherefore  the  devastation  of  the  for- 
ests, moving  them  back  from  us  farther  and 
farther  until  in  many  regions  they  are  but  a 
thin  fringe,  has  left  most  of  us  totally  unfa- 
miliar with  these  trees,  of  the  utmost  beauty 
as   well    as    of   the    greatest   value. 

To     know    anything    at    all    of    the    spruces, 

52 


A  lone   pine  on  the   Indiao  River 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

pines  and  hemlocks  is  to  love  them  for  the 
refreshment  there  is  in  their  living  presence, 
rather  than  to  consider  them  merely  for  the 
timber  value.  But  the  point  of  view  dififers 
immensely  with  one's  occupation.  I  remember 
finding  in  the  depths  of  an  Alleghany  forest 
a  comparatively  rare  native  orchid,  then  new 
to  me  —  the  round -leaved  or  orbicular  habe- 
naria.  While  I  was  gloating  over  it  with  my 
camera  a  gray-haired  native  of  the  neighbor- 
hood joined  me,  and,  to  my  surprise,  assisted 
in  the  gloating  —  he,  too,  loved  the  woods  and 
the  plants.  Coming  a  little  later  to  a  group 
of  magnificent  hemlocks,  with  great,  clean, 
towering  trunks  reaching  up  a  hundred  feet 
through  the  soft  maples  and  yellow  birches 
and  beeches  which  seemed  dwarfed  by  these 
veterans,  I  exclaimed  in  admiration.  "Yes," 
he  said,  "them's  mighty  fine  hemlocks.  I 
calc'late  thet  one  to  the  left  would  bark 
near  five  dollars'  wuth !"  On  the  rare  plant 
we  had  joined  in  esthetic  appreciation,  but 
the  hemlock  was  to  the  old  lumberman  but 
a   source    of   tan -bark. 

This     search     for     tannin,     by     the     way,     is 

54 


THE    PINES 

to  blame  for  much  wanton  destruction.  Young 
hemlocks,  from  four  to  six  inches  in  diameter, 
are  felled,  stripped  of  their  bark,  and  left 
cumbering  the  ground,  to  invite  fire  and  to 
make  of  the  woods  an  unkempt  cemetery. 
The  fall  of  a  tree  from  natural  causes  is  fol- 
lowed by  the  interesting  and  beauty- making 
process  of  its  mossy  decay  and  return  to  the 
forest  floor,  furnishing  in  the  process  nour- 
ishment for  countless  seedlings  and  plants.  A 
tree  felled  in  maturity  under  enlightened  for- 
est management  is  all  removed  for  its  timber, 
and  leaves  the  ground  clear;  but  the  opera- 
tions of  the  bark -hunter  leave  only  hideous 
destruction  and  a  "slash"  that  is  most  difficult 
to   clear   in   later   years. 

This  same  hemlock  makes  a  most  impres- 
sive forest.  To  walk  among  primeval  hem- 
locks brings  healing  to  the  mind  and  peace  to 
the  soul,  as  one  realizes  fully  that  "the  groves 
were  God's  first  temples,"  and  that  God  is 
close  to  one  in  these  beneficent  solitudes, 
where  petty  things  must  fall  away,  vexations 
cease,  and  man's  spiritual  nature  absorb  the 
message   of   the   forest. 

55 


THE    PINES 

I  wonder  how  many  of  my  readers  realize 
that  an  exquisite  bit  of  real  hemlock  forest  lies 
not  five  miles  from  Boston  Common  ?  At  the 
Arnold  Arboretum,  that  noble  collection  of 
trees  and  plants,  "Hemlock  Hill"  is  assuming 
deeper  majesty  year  after  year  as  its  trees 
gain  age  and  size.  It  presents  exactly  the 
pure  forest  conditions,  and  makes  accessible  to 
thousands  the  full  beauty  and  soothing  that 
nothing  but  a  coniferous  forest  can  provide 
for  man.  There  is  the  great  collateral  advan- 
tage, too,  that  to  reach  Hemlock  Hill,  the 
visitor  must  use  a  noble  entrance,  and  pass 
other  trees  and  plants  which,  in  the  adequate 
setting  here  given,  cannot  but  do  him  much 
good,  and  prepare  him  for  the  deep  sylvan 
temple  of  the  hemlocks  he  is  seeking.  To 
visit  the  Arboretum  at  the  time  when  the 
curious  variety  of  the  apple  relatives  —  pyruses 
and  the  like  —  bloom,  is  to  secure  a  great 
benefit  of  sight  and  scent,  and  it  is  almost 
certain  to  make  one  resolve  to  return  when 
these  blossoms  shall,  by  nature's  perfect  work, 
have  become  fruit.  Here  the  fruit  is  grown 
for    its    beauty   only,    and    thus    no    gastronomic 

57 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

possibilities  interfere  with  the  appreciation  of 
color,  and  form,  and  situation !  But  again,  to 
come  to  the  Arboretum  some  time  during  the 
reign  of  the  lilacs  is  to  experience  an  even 
greater  pleasure,  perhaps,  for  here  the  old  farm 
garden  "laylock"  assumes  a  wonderful  diversity 
of  form  and  color,  from  the  palest  wands  of 
the  Persian  sorts  to  the  deepest  blue  of  some 
of    the    French    hybrids. 

The  pines  themselves  will  well  repay  any 
investigation  and  appreciation.  Seven  species 
are  with  us  in  the  New  England  and  Middle 
Atlantic  States,  seven  more  are  found  South, 
while  the  great  West,  with  its  yet  magnificent 
forests,  has  twenty- five  pines  of  distinct  char- 
acter. The  white  pine  is  perhaps  most  famil- 
iar to  us,  because  of  its  economic  importance, 
and  it  is  as  well  the  tallest  and  most  notable 
of  all  those  we  see  in  the  East.  From  its 
first  essay  as  a  seedling,  with  its  original  clus- 
ter of  five  delicate  blue -green  leaflets,  to  its 
lusty  youth,  when  it  is  spreading  and  broad, 
if  given  room  to  grow,  it  is  a  fine  object, 
and  I  have  had  some  thrills  of  joy  at  finding 
this    splendid    common    thing    planted    in    well- 

58 


THE    PINES 

placed  groups  on  the  grounds  of  wealthy  men, 
instead  of  some  Japanese  upstart  with  a  name 
a  yard  long  and  a  truly  crooked  Oriental  dis- 
position! In  age  the  white  pine  dominates  any 
landscape,  wearing  even  the  scars  of  its  long 
battle  with  the  elements  with  stately  dignity. 
A  noble  pair  of  white  pines  on  the  shore  of 
Lake  Champlain  I  remember  especially — they 
were  the  monarchs  of  the  lakeside  as  they 
towered  above  all  other  trees.  Ragged  they 
were,  their  symmetry  gone  long  years  ago 
through  attacks  of  storms  and  through  strife 
with  the  neighboring  trees  that  had  succumbed 
while  they  only  suffered  and  stood  firm.  Yet 
they  seemed  all  complete,  of  proved  strength 
and  staying  power,  and  their  aspect  was  not 
of  defiance  or  anger,  but  rather  indicative  of 
beneficent  strength,  as  if  they  said,  ^^Here  we 
stand;  somewhat  crippled,  it  is  true,  but  yet 
pointing  upright  to  the  heavens,  yet  vigorous, 
yet   seed-bearing   and    cheerful!" 

Another  group  of  these  white  pines  that 
stood  close  to  some  only  less  picturesque  red 
pines  on  the  shores  of  a  pond  deep  in  the 
Adirondacks     emphasized      again      for     me     one 

59 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

May  day  the  majesty  of  this  beneficent  friend 
of  mankind ;  and  yet  another  old  pine  mon- 
arch against  the  sunset  sky  pointed  the  west- 
ward way  from  the  picturesque  Cornell  campus, 
and  alas!  also  pointed  the  danger  to  even  this 
one  unreplaceable  tree  when  modern  "enter- 
prise" constructs  a  trolley  line  on  a  scenic 
route,  ruthlessly  destroying  the  very  features 
that  make  the  route  desirable,  rather  than  go 
to    any    mechanical    trouble ! 

My  readers  will  easily  recall  for  themselves 
just  the  same  sort  of  "old  pine"  groups  they 
have  record  of  on  memory's  picture-gallery, 
and  will,  I  am  sure,  agree  with  me  as  to  the 
informality,  dignity  and  true  beauty  of  these 
survivors  of  the  forest,  all  of  which  deserve 
to  be  appreciatively  cared  for,  against  any 
encroachment    of    train,    trolley    or    lumberman. 

I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  have  not  yet  seen 
the  blossoms  of  the  white  pine,  which  the 
botanists  tell  us  come  in  early  spring,  minute 
and  light  brown,  to  be  followed  by  the  six- 
inch-long  cones  which  mature  the  second  year. 
I  promise  my  camera  that  another  spring  it 
shall   be   turned   toward   these   shy  blossoms. 

60 


.«4 

1 

^m^       ^^' 

:  y     ^ 

1^1 

lj 

It: 

'I 

The   long-leaved  pines  ot  the   South 


The  fountain-like  effect  of  the  young  long-leaved  pine 


THE   PINES 

Any  one  who  has  traveled  south  of  Virginia, 
even  by  the  Pullman  way  of  not  seeing,  cannot 
fail  to  have  noted  the  lovely  green  leaf-foun- 
tains springing  up  from  the  ground  along  the 
railroads.  These  are  the  young  trees  of  the 
long-leaved  or  Southern  yellow  pine.  How 
beautiful  they  are,  these  narrow  leaves  of  vivid 
green,  more  than  a  foot  long,  drooping  grace- 
fully from  the  center  outward,  with  none  of 
the  stiffness  of  our  Northern  species !  In  some 
places  they  seem  to  fairly  bubble  in  green 
from  all  the  surface  of  the  ground,  so  close 
are  they.  And  the  grand  long-leaved  pine 
itself,  maintained  in  lusty  vigor  above  these 
greeneries,  is  a  tree  of  simple  dignity,  empha- 
sized strongly  when  seen  at  its  best  either 
in  the  uncut  forest,  or  in  a  planted  avenue. 
We  of  the  North  are  helping  to  ruin  the  next 
generation  of  Southern  pines  by  lavish  use,  for 
decorations,  of  the  young  trees  of  about  two 
feet  high,  crowded  with  the  long  drooping 
emerald  needles.  The  little  cut-off  pine  lasts 
a  week  or  two,  in  a  parlor  —  it  took  four  or 
five    years    to    grow ! 

All   pine-cones   are   interesting,    and   there  is 

63 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

a  great  variation  between  the  different  species. 
The  scrub -pine  one  sees  along  the  railroads 
between  New  York  and  Philadelphia  has  rather 
stubby  cones,  while  the  pitch-pine,  beloved  of 
the  fireplace  for  its  "light-knots,"  has  a  some- 
what pear-shaped  and  gracefully  disposed  cone. 
A  most  peculiar  cone  is  that  of  a  variety  of 
the  Norway  pine,  which,  among  other  species 
brought  from  Europe,  is  valued  for  ornament. 
The  common  jack -pine  of  the  Middle  States 
hillsides  wears  symmetrical  and  handsome  cones 
with  dignity.  Cones  are,  of  course,  the  fruits 
or  seed-holders  of  the  pine,  but  the  seeds 
themselves  are  found  at  the  base  of  the  scales, 
or  parts  of  the  cones,  attached  in  pairs.  Each 
cone,  like  an  apple,  has  in  its  care  a  number 
of  seeds,  which  it  guards  against  various  dan- 
gers until  a  kindly  soil  encourages  the  rather 
slow    germination    characteristic    of    the    order. 

The  nurserymen  have  imported  many  pines 
from  Europe,  which  give  pleasing  variety  to 
our  ornamental  plantings,  and  aid  in  enriching 
the  winter  coloring.  The  Austrian  pine  and 
the  Scotch  pine  are  welcome  additions  to  our 
own    pine    family.      In    these    days    of    economic 

64 


THE    PINES 

chemistry  and  a  deficient  rag  supply,  every 
reader  of  these  words  is  probably  in  close 
proximity  to  an  important  spruce  product  — 
paper.  The  manufacturers  say,  with  hand  on 
heart,  that  they  do  not  use  much  wood  pulp, 
but  when  one  has  passed  a  great  paper-mill 
flanked  on  all  sides  by  piles  of  spruce  logs, 
with  no  bales  of  rags  in  sight  anywhere,  he  is 
tempted  to  think  otherwise  !  Modern  forestry  is 
now  planting  trees  on  waste  lands  for  the  pulp 
"crop,"  and  the  common  poplar  is  coming  in 
to    relieve    the    spruces. 

Beautiful  trees  are  these  spruces  and  firs, 
either  in  the  forest  or  when  brought  by  the 
planter  to  his  home  grounds.  The  leaves  are 
much  shorter  than  those  of  most  pines,  and 
clothe  the  twigs  closely.  There  is  a  vast 
variety  in  color,  too,  from  the  wonderful 
whitish  or  "glaucous"  blue  of  the  Colorado 
blue  spruce,  to  the  deep  shining  green  of 
Nordmann's  fir,  a  splendid  introduction  from 
the  Caucasus.  Look  at  them,  glistening  in  the 
winter  sun,  or  drooping  with  the  clinging 
snow;  walk  in  a  spruce  wood,  inhaling  the 
bracing     balsamic      fragrance     which     seems     so 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    JFITH    THE   TREES 

kindly  to  the  lungs ;  hark  to  the  music  of  the 
wind  in  their  tops,  telling  of  health  and  pu- 
rity, of  God's  love  and  provision  for  man's 
mind  and  heart,  and  you  will  begin  to  know 
the  song  of  the  firs.  To  really  hear  this  grand 
symphony,  for  such  it  then  becomes,  you  must 
listen  to  the  wind  playing  on  the  tops  of  a 
great  primeval  coniferous  forest,  of  scores  and 
hundreds  of  acres  or  miles  in  extent.  And 
even  then,  many  visits  are  needed,  for  there  are 
movements  to  this  symphony  —  the  allegro  of  the 
gale,  the  scherzo  of  the  easy  morning  breeze, 
the  deep  adagio  of  a  rain-storm,  and  the  andante 
of  warm  days  and  summer  breezes,  when  you 
may  repose  prone  upon  a  soft  carpet  of  pine 
needles,  every  sense  made  alert,  yet  soothed, 
by    the    master-theme    you    are    hearing. 

There  is  a  little  wood  of  thick  young  pines, 
interspersed  with  hard  maple  and  an  occasional 
birch,  close  by  the  lake  of  the  Eagles,  where 
my  summers  are  made  happy.  The  closeness 
of  the  pines  has  caused  their  lower  branches 
to  die,  as  always  in  the  deep  forest,  and  the 
falling  needles,  year  by  year,  have  deepened 
the    soft    brown    carpet    that    covers    the    forest 

66 


An    avenue    of    white    pints 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

floor.  Some  one,  years  ago,  struck  by  the  aisles 
that  the  straight  trunks  mark  out  so  clearly, 
called  this  the  ^^  Cathedral  Woods."  The  name 
seems  appropriate  at  all  times,  but  especially 
when,  on  a  warm  Sunday  afternoon,  I  lie  at 
ease  on  the  aromatic  carpet,  hearing  the  soft 
organ  tones  in  the  pine  tops,  and  drinking  in 
God's    forest  message. 

I  have  visited  these  pine  woods  at  midnight, 
when  a  full  moon,  making  brilliant  the  near-by 
lake,  gave  but  a  ghostly  gloom  in  the  deep, 
deep  silence  of  the  Cathedral;  but,  more 
impressive,  I  have  often  trodden  through  in  a 
white  fog,  when  the  distance  was  misty  and 
dim,  and  the  aisles  seemed  longer  and  higher, 
and  to  lead  one  further  away  from  the  trifles 
of  temper  and  trial.  Indeed,  I  do  not  believe 
that  any  one  who  has  but  once  fully  received 
from  the  deep  forest  that  which  it  gives  out 
so  freely  and  constantly  can  ever  think  of 
things  trivial,  or  of  minor  annoyances,  while 
again    within    its   soothing    portals. 

But  of  the  trees  of  the  forest  of  pine  and 
spruce  it  must  be  noted  that  sometimes  the 
deepest,  glossiest  green  of  the  leaves  as  presented 

68 


THE    PINES 

to  the  eye  only  hides  the  dainty,  white -Hned 
interior  surface  of  those  same  leaves.  To  the 
outside,  a  somber  dignity,  unassailable,  un- 
touched by  frost  or  sun,  protective,  defenseful, 
as  nature  often  appears  to  the  careless  observer; 
but  inside  is  light,  softly  reflected,  revealing 
unsuspected  delicacies  of  structure  and  finish. 
To  us  who  are  not  woodsmen  or  ^^timber- 
cruisers"  the  most  familiar  of  all  the  spruces 
is  the  introduced  form  from  Norway.  Its  yel- 
lowish green  twigs  are  bright  and  cheerful,  and 
in  specimens  that  have  reached  the  fruiting 
age  the  crown  of  cones,  high  up  in  the  tree, 
is  an  additional  charm,  for  these  soft  brown 
"strobiles,"  as  the  botanist  calls  them,  are 
smooth  and  regular,  and  very  different  from 
those  of  the  rugged  pines.  I  have  often  been 
told  that  the  Norway  spruce  was  short-lived, 
and  that  it  became  unkempt  in  age ;  but  now 
that  I  have  lived  for  ten  years  and  more  beside 
a  noble  specimen,  I  know  that  the  change  from 
the  upreaching  push  of  youth  to  the  semi- 
drooping  sedateness  of  maturity  is  only  a  taking 
on  of  dignity.  There  stands  on  the  home 
grounds    of    a    true    tree-lover    in    Pennsylvania 

69 


GETTING    JC^UJINTED    IFITH   fHE    TREES 

a  Norway  spruce  that  has  been  untouched  by 
knife  or  disaster  since  its  planting  many  years 
ago.  No  pruning  has  shortened  in  its  "leader" 
or  top,  no  foolish  idea  of  "trimming  it  up" 
has  been  allowed  to  deprive  it  of  the  very 
lowest  branches,  which,  in  consequence,  now 
sweep  the  ground  in  full  perfection,  while  the 
unchecked  point  of  the  tree  still  aspires  upward 
forty  feet  above.  A  beautiful  object  is  this 
tree  —  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the 
conifers  in  my  friend's  great  "pinetum,"  with 
its  scores  of  rare  species.  Let  me  ask,  then, 
those  who  would  set  this  or  any  other  tree  of 
evergreen  about  the  home,  to  see  to  it  that  the 
young  tree  from  the  nursery  has  all  its  lower 
branches  intact,  and  that  its  top  has  never 
been  mutilated.  With  care,  such  specimens 
may  be  obtained  and  successfully  transplanted, 
and  will  grow  in  time  to  a  lovely  old  age  of 
steady   greenness. 

The  balsam  fir  is  almost  indistinguishable 
from  the  Norway  spruce  when  young,  but  soon 
grows  apart  from  it  in  habit,  and  is  hardly  as 
desirable,  even  though  a  native.  It  is  rich 
in    the    true    balsamic    odor;    and    this,    again,    is 

70 


THE    PINES 


its    destruction;    for    one    "spruce    pillow"    may 
destroy   a   half    dozen    trees ! 

The  white  cedar,  our  common  juniper, 
with  its  aromatic  blue  berries  or  fruits,  is  per- 
haps the  most  familiar  of  all  the  native  ever- 
greens. It  comes  to  us  of  Pennsylvania  all  too 
freely  at  Christmas  time,  when  the  tree  of  joy 
and  gifts  may  mean,  in  the  wholesale,  sad 
forest  destruction.  This  juniper  I  have 
associated  particularly  with 
the  dogwood 
and  the  red- 
bud,  to  the 
bloom  of 
which  it  sup- 
plies a  most 
perfect  back- 
ground in  the 
favorite  Cone- 
wago  park,  a 
purely  natural 
reservation  of 
things  beautiful 
along  the  Pennsylvania 
railroad.  Its  lead-pencil       _-       ^        r  ..     i- 

*  ^"^         Cones  of  the  white  spruce 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

sister,  the   red   cedar,   reaches   our  Hterary   senses 
as  closely  as  does  the  pulp-making  spruce  ! 

I  might  write  much  of  the  rare  introduced 
cypresses  from  Japan  and  China,  and  of  the 
peculiar  variations  that  have  been  worked  out 
by  the  nurserymen  among  the  native  pines  and 
firs ;  yet  this  would  not  be  talk  of  the  trees  of 
the  open  ground,  but  rather  of  the  nursery 
and  the  park.  AlsO;  if  I  had  but  seen  them, 
there  would  be  much  to  say  about  the  mag- 
nificent conifers  of  the  great  West,  from  the 
giant  red-woods,  or  sequoias,  of  the  Mariposa 
grove  in  California  to  the  richly  varied  pines 
of  the  Rockies.  But  I  can  only  suggest  to  my 
readers  the  intimate  consideration  of  all  this 
great  pine  family,  so  peculiarly  valuable  to 
mankind,  and  the  use  of  some  of  the  pines 
and  spruces  about  the  home  for  the  steady 
cheer    of    green    they    so    fully   provide. 


72 


:appie0 

WELL  do  I  remember  one  of  the  ad- 
monitions of  my  youth,  brought  upon 
me  by  an  attempt  to  take  apple -blos- 
soms from  a  tree  in  bloom  because  they  were 
beautiful.  I  was  told  that  it  was  wrong  to 
pluck  for  any  purpose  the  flowers  of  fruit 
trees,  because  the  possible  fruitage  might 
thereby  be  reduced.  That  is,  feeding  the  eye 
was  improper,  but  it  was  always  in  order  to 
conserve  all  the  possibilities  for  another  organ 
of  the  body.  In  those  days  we  had  not 
learned  that  nature  provides  against  contingen- 
cies, and  that  not  one -tenth  of  all  the  blos- 
soms would  be  needed  to  "set"  as  much 
fruit    as    the    tree    could    possibly   mature. 

The  app!e,  well  called  the  king  of  fruits, 
is  worthy  of  all  admiration  as  a  fruit;  but  I 
do  not  see  why  that  need  interfere  in  the 
least  with  its  consideration  as  an  object  of 
beauty.     On   the  contrary,   such  consideration   is 

75 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH   THE    TREES 

all  the  better  for  the  apple,  which  is  not 
only  most  desirable  and  pleasing  in  its  relation 
to  the  dessert,  the  truly  celebrated  American 
pie,  the  luscious  dumpling  of  the  housewife, 
and  the  Italian's  fruit- stand  of  our  cities,  but 
is  at  the  same  time  a  benefaction  to  the  eye 
and  the  sense  of  beauty,  in  tree,  in  blossom, 
and    in   fruit. 

It  is  of  the  esthetic  value  of  the  apple  I 
would  write,  leaving  its  supreme  place  in 
pomology  unassailed.  Look  at  the  young  apple 
tree  in  the  "nursery  row,"  where  it  has  been 
growing  a  year  since  it  was  "budded" — that 
is,  mysteriously  changed  from  the  wild  and 
untamed  fruit  of  nature  to  the  special  variety 
designed  by  the  nurseryman.  It  is  a  straight, 
shapely  wand,  in  most  varieties,  though  it  is 
curious  to  find  that  some  apples,  notably 
the  favorite  Rhode  Island  Greening,  start  in 
promptly  to  be  picturesquely  crooked  and 
twisty.  As  it  grows  and  branches  under  the 
cultivation  and  guidance  of  the  orchardist,  it 
maintains  a  lusty,  hearty  aspect,  its  yellowish, 
reddish  or  brownish  twigs  —  again  according 
to   variety  —  spreading    out    to    the    sun    and    the 

76 


APPLES 

air  freely.  A  decade  passes,  and  the  sparse 
showing  of  bloom  that  has  decorated  it  each 
spring  gradually  gives  place  to  a  great  glory 
of  flowers.  The  tree  is  about  to  bear,  and  it 
assumes  the  character  of  maturity;  for  while  it 
grows  on  soberly  for  many  years,  there  is  now 
a  spreading,  a  sort  of  relaxation,  very  different 
from  the  vigorous  upshooting  of  its  early 
youth.  After  a  crop  or  two,  the  tree  has 
become,  to  the  eye,  the  familiar  orchard 
member,  and  it  leans  a  little  from  the  blasts 
of  winter,  twists  aside  from  the  perpendicular, 
spreads  comfortably  over  a  great  expanse  of 
ground,  and  settles  down  to  its  long,  useful, 
and    truly   beautiful   life. 

While  the  young  orchard  is  trim  and 
handsome,  I  confess  to  a  greater  liking  for 
the  rugged  old  trees  that  have  followed  blos- 
som with  fruit  in  unstinted  profusion  for  a 
generation.  There  is  a  certain  character  of 
sturdy  good -will  about  these  substantial  stems 
that  the  clinging  snows  only  accentuate  in 
winter.  The  framework  of  limb  and  twig  is 
very  different  from  that  of  the  other  trees, 
and     the     twisty    lines     seem     to     mean     warmth 

77 


APPLES 

and  cheer,  even  against  a  frosty  sky.  And 
these  old  veterans  are  house  trees,  too  —  they 
do  not  suggest  the  forest  or  the  broad  expanse 
of  nature,  but,  instead,  the  proximity  of  man 
and  the  home,  the  comfortable  summer  after- 
noon under  their  copious  leafage,  the  great 
piles   of   ruddy-cheeked    fruit   in   autumn. 

I  need  hardly  say  anything  of  the  apple- 
blossoms,  for  those  who  read  these  words  are 
almost  certain  to  have  long  appreciated  their 
delicately  fragrant  blush  and  white  loveliness. 
The  apricot  and  the  cherry  are  the  first  of 
the  fruit  trees  to  sing  the  spring  song,  and 
they  cover  themselves  with  white,  in  advance 
of  any  sign  of  green  leaves  on  their  twigs. 
The  apple  has  an  advantage ;  coming  more 
deliberately,  the  little  pink  buds  are  set  amidst 
the  soft  greens  of  the  opening  foliage,  and 
the  leaves  and  flowers  expand  together  in 
their  symphony  of  color  and  fragrance.  The 
grass  has  grown  lush  by  this  time,  the  dande- 
lions are  punctuating  it  with  gold,  and  every- 
thing is  in  the  full  riot  of  exuberant  spring- 
time. 

But  there   are    apples  and   apples   and   apples. 

79 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

Even  the  plain  orchard  gives  us  a  difference 
in  flowers,  as  well  as  in  tree  aspect.  Notice 
the  trees  this  coming  May;  mark  the  flat, 
white  flowers  on  one  tree,  the  cup- shaped, 
pink -veined  blooms  on  another.  Follow  both 
through  the  fruiting,  and  see  whether  the 
sweeter  flower  brings  the  more  sugary  fruit. 
This  fact  ascertained,  perhaps  it  may  be  fol- 
lowed up  by  observation  of  the  distinctive 
color  of  the  twigs  and  young  branches  —  for 
there  are  wide  differences  in  this  respect,  and 
the    canny    tree -grower    knows    his    pets    afar. 

Perhaps  there  is  a  ^^crab"  in  the  old 
orchard,  ready  to  give  the  greatest  burst  of 
bloom  —  for  the  crab -apple  flower  is  usually 
finer  and  more  fragrant  than  any  other  of  the 
cultivated  forms.  It  is  an  especial  refuge  of 
the  birds  and  the  bees,  you  will  find,  and  it 
invites  them  with  its  rare  fragrance  and  deeper 
blush,  so  that  they  may  work  all  the  more 
earnestly  at  the  pollination  without  which  all 
this  richness  of  bloom  would  be  ineffective  in 
nature's    reproductive    scheme. 

This  same  crab -apple  is  soon  to  be,  as  its 
brilliant     fruit     matures,     a     notable      object     of 

80 


When  the  apple  trees  blossom 

beauty,  for  few  ornamental  trees  can  vie  with 
its  display  of  shining  color.  There  was  a 
great  old  crab  right  in  the  flower  garden  of 
my  boyhood  home,  amid  quaint  box -trees, 
snowballs  and  lilacs.  LiHes-of-the-valley  flour- 
ished in  its  shadow,  the  delicate  bleeding- 
heart  mingled  with  old-fashioned  irises  and 
peonies     at    its    feet.      From    early    spring    until 

8i 


GETTING   AC^AINTED   WITH    THE    TREES 

mid-August  the  crab -apple  held  court  of 
beauty  there  —  and  an  always  hungry  boy  often 
found  something  in  addition  to  beauty  in  the 
red  and  yellow  fruits  that  were  acid  but 
aromatic. 

With  a  little  attention,  if  one  would  plant 
crab  -  apples  for  their  loveliness  of  fruit  hue 
and  form,  a  fine  contrast  of  color  may  be 
had ;  for  some  varieties  are  perfect  in  clear 
yellow,  against  others  in  deepest  scarlet,  bloom- 
covered  with  blue  haze,  and  yet  others  which 
carry  all  the  colors  from  cream  to  crimson — 
the   latter   as   the   warm   sun   paints    deeper. 

Why  do  we  not  plant  more  fruit  trees  for 
beauty?  Not  one  of  our  familiar  fruits  will 
fail  us  in  this  respect,  if  so  considered.  The 
apricot  will  often  have  its  white  flowers  open 
to  match  the  purity  of  the  last  snow,  the 
cherry  will  follow  with  a  burst  of  bloom,  the 
apples  and  crab -apples  will  continue  the  show, 
aided  by  plum  and  pear  and  peach,  and  the 
quince  —  ah,  there's  a  flower  in  a  green  enamel 
setting! — will  close  the  blooming- time.  But 
the  cherry  fruits  now  redden  in  shining  round- 
ness,   the    earlier    apples    throw    rich    gleams   of 

82 


APPLES 

color  to  the  eye,  and  there  is  chromatic 
beauty  until  frost  bids  the  last  russets  leave 
their  stems,  leaving  bare  the  framework  of  the 
trees,  to  teach  us  in  lines  of  symmetry  and 
efficiency  how  strength  and  elegance  are  com- 
bined in  nature's  handiwork.  Do  you  fear 
that  some  of  the  fruit  may  be  taken?  What 
of  it?  Plant  for  beauty,  and  the  fruit  is  all 
extra  —  give  it  away  freely,  and  pass  on  to  others 
some  of  God's  good  gifts,  to  your  own  true 
happiness  ! 

There  is  another  crab -apple  that  is  dis- 
tinctive in  its  elegance,  color  and  fragrance. 
It  is  the  true  ^^wild  crab"  of  Eastern  North 
America,  and  one  who  makes  its  acquaintance 
in  blooming  time  will  never  forget  it.  The  tree 
is  not  large,  and  it  is  likely  to  be  set  with 
crooked,  thorny  branches;  but  the  flowers! 
Deep  pink  or  rosy  red  chalices,  rather  longer 
than  the  commonplace  apple -blossom,  and 
hanging  on  long  and  slender  stems  in  a  cer- 
tain picturesquely  stiff  disposition,  they  are  a 
joy  for  the  senses  of  sight  and  fragrance. 
This  notable  native  may  be  found  on  rich 
slopes    and    in    dry    glades  —  it    is    not    fond    of 

83 


The   Spectabilis  crab   in   bloom 


APPLES 

swamps.  It  is  grown  by  some  enlightened 
nurserymen,  too,  and  can  well  be  planted  in 
the  home  grounds  to  their  true  adornment. 
The  blossoms  give  way  to  form  handsome 
yellow  fruits,  about  an  inch  in  diameter, 
which  are  themselves  much  more  ornamental 
than  edible,  for  even  the  small  boy  will  not 
investigate  a  second  time  the  bitter  flesh.  I 
have  heard  that  a  cider  of  peculiar  ^^ hardness" 
and  potency,  guaranteed  to  unsettle  the  firm- 
est head,  is  made  from  these  acid  fruits — but 
I  have  not  found  it  necessary  to  extend  my 
tree    studies    in    that    direction. 

The  states  west  of  Kansas  do  not  know 
this  lovely  wild  crab,  to  which  the  botanists 
give  a  really  euphonious  designation  as  Pyrits 
coronaria.  There  is  a  prairie-states  crab -apple, 
which  I  have  never  seen,  but  which,  I  am 
told,  has  nothing  like  the  beauty  of  our 
exquisite  Eastern  native.  This  Western  species 
lacks  the  long  stem  and  the  bright  color  of 
the  flowers  of  our  favorite,  and  its  fruits, 
while  quite  as  viciously  sour,  are  a  dull  and 
greasy  green.  The  great  West  has  many  other 
things,    but   we    have    the    wild    crab -apple. 

8s 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH   THE    TREES 

Rather  between,  as  to  beauty,  is  the  native 
crab -apple  of  the  Southland,  which  is  known 
as  the  Soulard  crab.  It  is  not  as  attractive 
as  our  own  Eastern  gem,  a  pure  native  pos- 
session, and  one  which  our  foreign  friends 
envy   us. 

Curiously  enough,  our  own  fruiting  apple 
is  not  a  native  of  America.  It  was  at  a  meet- 
ing of  a  New  England  pomological  association 
that  I  heard,  several  ye^rs  ago,  an  old  man 
of  marvelous  memory  and  power  of  observa- 
tion tell  of  his  recollections  of  seventy  years, 
notable  among  which  was  his  account  of  see- 
ing the  first  good  apples,  as  a  boy,  during  a 
visit  in  the  state  of  New  York.  Think  of  it ! 
the  most  widely  grown  and  beautiful  of  all  our 
fruits  hardly  older  than  the  railroad  in  America! 
We  owe  the  apples  we  eat  to  Europe,  for  the 
start,  the  species  being  probably  of  Himalayan 
origin.  America  has  greatly  developed  the 
apple,  however,  as  one  who  has  looked  over 
the  fruit  tables  at  any  great  exposition  will 
promptly  testify,  and  nearly  all  our  really  good 
varieties  are  of  American  origin.  Moreover, 
we  are  the  greatest  apple-growers  in  the  world, 

86 


Fruits  of  the  wild  crab 

and    the    yearly   production    probably    exceeds    a 
hundred    millions    of    barrels. 

The  curious  story  of  ^^ Johnny  Appleseed"  is 
given  us  by  historians,  who  tell  us  of  this 
semi  -  religious  enthusiast  who  roamed  barefoot 
over  the  wilds  of  Ohio  and  Indiana  a  century 
ago,  sowing  apple -seeds  in  the  scattered  clear- 
ings, and  living  to  see  the  trees  bearing  fruit, 
selections  from  which  probably  are  interwoven 
among  the   varieties   of  today.     New  varieties   of 

87 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

apples,  by  the  way,  come  from  seeds  sown,  and 
trees  grown  from  them,  with  a  bare  chance  that 
one  in  ten  thousand  may  be  worth  keeping. 
When  a  variety  seems  thus  worthy,  ^^buds"  or 
"scions"  from  the  original  tree  are  "budded" 
or  "grafted"  by  the  nurseryman  into  young 
seedling  trees,  which  are  thus  changed  into 
the  selected  sort.  To  sow  the  seeds  of  your 
favorite  Baldwin  does  not  imply  that  you  will 
get  Baldwin  trees,  by  any  means ;  you  will 
more  likely  have  a  partial  reversion  to  the 
acid    and    bitter   original    species. 

It  is  not  only  for  the  fruit  that  we  are 
indebted  to  the  Old  World,  but  also  for  some 
distinctively  beautiful  and  most  ornamental  va- 
rieties of  the  apple,  not  by  any  means  as  well 
known  among  us  as  they  ought  to  be.  The 
nurserymen  sell  as  an  ornamental  small  tree  a 
form  known  as  "Parkman's  double  -  flowering 
crab,"  which  produces  blooms  of  much  beauty, 
like  delicate  little  roses.  Few  of  them,  how- 
ever, know  of  the  glorious  show  that  the  spring 
brings  where  there  is  a  proper  planting  of  the 
Chinese  and  Japanese  crab -apples,  with  some 
other  hybrids  and  varieties.    To  readers  in  New 

88 


APPLES 

England  a  pilgrimage  to  Boston  is  always  in 
order.  In  the  Public  Gardens  are  superb  speci- 
mens of  these  crab -apples  from  the  Orient, 
as  well  as  those  native  to  this  continent,  and 
for  several  weeks  in  May  they  may  be  enjoyed. 
They  are  enjoyed  by  the  Bostonians,  who  are  in 
this,  as  in  many  things,  better  served  by  their 
authorities  than  is  any  other  American  city. 
What  other  city,  for  instance,  gives  its  people 
such  a  magnificent  spring  show  of  hyacinths, 
tulips,    daffodils    and    the    like? 

It  is  at  the  wonderful  Arnold  Arboretum, 
that  Mecca  of  tree -lovers  just  outside  of  Bos- 
ton and  really  within  its  superbly  managed  park 
system,  that  the  greatest  show  of  the  "pyrus 
family,"  as  the  apples  and  pears  are  botani- 
cally  called,  may  be  found.  Here  have  been 
gathered  the  lovely  blooming  trees  of  all  the 
hardy  world,  to  the  delight  of  the  eye  and 
the  nose,  and  the  education  of  the  mind.  To 
me  the  most  impressive  of  all  was  a  wonder- 
ful Siberian  crab  (one  must  look  for  Pyrus 
baccata  on  the  label,  as  the  Arboretum  folks 
are  not  in  love  with  ^^ common"  names)  close 
by   the    little    greenhouses.     Its    round    head  was 

89 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

purely  white,  with  no  hint  of  pink,  and  the 
mass  of  bloom  that  covered  it  was  only  punc- 
tuated by  the  green  of  the  expanding  leaves. 
The  especial  elegance  of  this  crab  was  in  its 
whiteness,  and  that  elegance  was  not  diminished 
by  the  later  masses  of  little  yellow  and  red, 
almost   translucent,    fruits. 

A  somewhat  smaller  tree  is  commonly  called 
the  Chinese  flowering  apple,  and  its  early 
flowers  remind  one  strongly  of  the  beauty  of 
our  own  wild  crab,  as  they  are  deeper  in  color 
than  most  of  the  crabs,  being  almost  coral-red 
in  bud.  This  "spectabilis,"  as  it  is  familiarly 
called,  is  a  gem,  as  it  opens  the  season  of  the 
apple    blooms    with    its    burst    of    pink    richness. 

The  beauty-loving  Japanese  have  a  festival 
at  the  time  of  the  cherry-blooming  —  and  it  is 
altogether  a  festival  of  beauty,  not  connected 
with  the  food  that  follows  the  flowers.  They 
actually  dare  to  cut  the  blossoms,  too,  for 
adornment,  and  all  the  populace  take  time  to 
drink  in  the  message  of  the  spring.  Will  we 
workaday  Americans  ever  dare  to  "waste"  so 
much  time,  and  go  afield  to  absorb  God's 
provision   of  soul  and    sense    refreshment   in   the 

90 


The    beauty    of   a    fruiting    apple    branch 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

spring,  forgetting  for  the  time  our  shops  and 
desks,    our    stores    and    marts? 

Professor  Sargent,  that  deep  student  of  trees 
who  has  built  himself  a  monument,  which  is 
also  a  beneficence  to  all  mankind,  in  the  great 
volumes  of  his  "Silva  of  North  America,"  lives 
not  far  from  Boston,  and  he  loves  especially 
that  jewel  of  the  apple  family  which,  for  want 
of  a  common  name,  I  must  designate  scientifi- 
cally as  Pyriis  floribunda.  On  his  own  magnif- 
icent estate,  as  well  as  at  the  Arboretum,  this 
superb  shrub  or  small  tree  riots  in  rosy  beauty 
in  early  spring.  While  the  leaves  do  come 
with  these  flowers,  they  are  actually  crowded 
back  out  of  apparent  sight  by  the  straight 
wands  of  rose-red  blooms,  held  by  the  twisty 
little  tree  at  every  angle  and  in  indescribable 
beauty.  If  the  visitor  saw  nothing  but  this 
Floribunda  apple — ^^  abundant  flowering"  sure 
enough  —  on  his  pilgrimage,  he  might  well  be 
satisfied,  especially  if  he  then  and  there 
resolved  to  see  it  again,  either  as  he  planted  it 
at  home  or  journeyed  hither  another  spring 
for    the    enlargement    of   his    soul. 

There  are  other  of  these   delightful  crabs  or 

92 


APPLES 

apples  to  be  enjoyed — Ringo,  Kaido,  Toringo 
— nearly  all  of  Japanese  origin,  all  of  distinct 
beauty,  and  all  continuing  that  beauty  in  hand- 
some but  inedible  fruits  that  hang  most  of  the 
summer.  My  tree-loving  friends  can  well  study 
these,  and,  I  hope,  plant  them,  instead  of 
repeating  continually  the  monotonously  familiar 
shrubs    and    trees    of   ordinary    commerce. 

But  I  have  not  spoken  enough  of  one  nota- 
ble feature  of  the  every-day  apple  tree  that  we 
may  see  without  a  journey  to  the  East.  The 
fully  set  fruiting  branch  of  an  apple  tree  in 
health  and  vigor,  properly  nurtured  and  pro- 
tected against  fungous  disease  by  modern 
"spraying,"  is  a  thing  of  beauty  in  its  form 
and  color.  See  those  deep  red  Baldwins  shine 
overhead  in  the  frosty  air  of  early  fall;  note  the 
elegance  of  form  and  striping  on  the  leathery- 
skinned  Ben  Davis ;  appreciate  true  apples  of 
gold  set  in  green  enamel  on  a  tree  of  the 
sunny  Bellefleur!  These  in  the  fall;  but  it  is 
hardly  full  summer  before  the  closely  set 
branches  of  Early  Harvest  are  as  beautiful  as 
any  orange-tree.,  or  the  more  upright  Red 
Astrachan     is     ablaze     with     fruit  '  of     red     and 

93 


GETTING  ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

yellow.  Truly,  an  apple  orchard  might  be 
arranged  to  give  a  series  of  pictures  of  changing 
beauty  of  color  and  growth  from  early  spring 
until  fall  frost,  and  then  to  follow  with  a  daily 
panorama  of  form  and  line  against  snow  and 
sky  until  the  blossoms  peeped  forth  again.  Let 
us  learn,  if  we  do  not  already  love  the  apple 
tree,    to    love    it    for   its    beauty    all    the    year! 


94 


poplars 


Wiino)3)S  and  0oplar2^ 

"  1  A  Y  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  there  we  sat 
I  J  down,  yea,  we  wept,  when  we  remem- 
bered Zion.  Upon  the  willows  in  the 
midst  thereof  we  hanged  our  harps."  Thus 
sang  the  Psalmist  of  the  sorrows  of  the  exiles 
in  Babylon,  and  his  song  has  fastened  the  name 
of  the  great  and  wicked  city  upon  one  of  the 
most  familiar  willows,  while  also  making  it 
"weep";  for  the  common  weeping  willow  is 
botanically    named    Salix    Babylonica. 

It  may  be  that  the  forlorn  Jews  did  hang 
their  harps  upon  the  tree  we  know  as  the  weep- 
ing willow,  that  species  being  credited  to  Asia 
as  a  place  of  origin ;  but  it  is  open  to  doubt, 
for  the  very  obvious  reason  that  the  weeping 
willow  is  distinctly  unadapted  to  use  as  a  harp- 
rack,  and  one  is  at  a  loss  to  know  just  how 
the  instruments  in  question  would  have  been 
hung  thereon.  It  is  probable  that  the  willows 
along     the     rivers    of     Babylon    were     of    other 

97 


GETTING  ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

species,  and  that  the  connection  of  the  city  of 
the  captivity  and  the  tears  of  the  exiles  with 
the  long,  drooping  branches  of  the  noble  tree 
which  has  thus  been  sorrowfully  named  was  a 
purely  sentimental  one.  Indeed,  the  weeping 
willow  is  also  called  Napoleon's  willow,  because 
the  great  Corsican  found  much  pleasure  in  a 
superb  willow  of  the  same  species  which  stood 
on  the  lonely  prison  isle  of  St.  Helena,  and 
from  twigs  of  which  many  trees  in  the  United 
States    have    been    grown. 

The  willow  family  presents  great  contrasts, 
both  physical  and  sentimental.  It  is  a  symbol 
both  of  grief  and  of  grace.  The  former  char- 
acterization is  undoubtedly  because  of  the  allu- 
sion of  the  one  hundred  and  thirty-seventh 
Psalm,  as  quoted  above,  thoughtlessly  extended 
through  the  centuries ;  and  the  latter,  as  when 
a  beautiful  and  slender  woman  is  said  to  be  of 
"willowy"  form,  obviously  because  of  the  real 
grace  of  the  long,  swinging  wands  of  the  same 
tree.  I  might  hint  that  a  better  reason  for 
making  the  willow  symbolize  grief  is  because 
charcoal  made  from  its  twigs  and  branches  is 
an  important  and    almost  essential   ingredient  of 

98 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

gunpowder,  through  which  a  sufficiency  of  grief 
has   undoubtedly   entered    the   world ! 

Willow  twigs  seem  the  very  essence  of  fra- 
gility, as  they  break  from  the  parent  tree  at  a 
touch  ;  and  yet  one  of  the  willows  furnishes  the 
tough,  pliable  and  enduring  withes  from  which 
are  woven  the  baskets  of  the  world.  The  wil- 
lows, usually  thin  in  branch,  sparse  of  some- 
what pale  foliage,  of  so-called  mournful  mien, 
are  yet  bursting  with  vigor  and  life ;  indeed, 
the  spread  and  the  value  of  the  family  is  by 
reason  of  this  tenacity  and  virility,  which  makes 
a  broken  twig,  floating  on  the  surface  of  a 
turbid  stream,  take  root  and  grow  on  a  sandy 
bank  where  nothing  else  can  maintain  itself, 
wresting  existence  and  drawing  strength  and 
beauty  from  the  very  element  whose  ravages  of 
flood    and    current   it   bravely   withstands. 

Apparently  ephemeral  in  wood,  growing 
quickly  and  perishing  as  quickly,  the  willows 
nevertheless  supply  us  with  an  important  pre- 
servative element,  extracted  from  their  bitter 
juices.  Salicylic  acid,  made  from  willow  bark, 
prevents  change  and  arrests  decay,  and  it  is  an 
important  .  medical    agent   as    well. 

99 


A    weeping   willow    in   early   spring 


WILLOJV^   AND    POPLARS 

Flexible  and  seemingly  delicate  as  the  little 
tree  is  when  but  just  established,  there  is  small 
promise  of  the  rugged  and  sturdy  trunk  that 
in  a  few  years  may  stand  where  the  chance 
twig  lodged.  And  the  color  of  the  willows  — 
ah  !  there's  a  point  for  full  enthusiasm,  for  this 
family  of  grief  furnishes  a  cheerful  note  for 
every  month  in  the  year,  and  runs  the  whole 
scale  of  greens,  grays,  yellows  and  browns,  and 
even  adds  to  the  winter  landscape  touches  of 
blazing  orange  and  bright  red  across  the  snow. 
Before  ever  one  has  thought  seriously  of  the 
coming  of  spring,  the  long  branchlets  of  the 
weeping  willow  have  quickened  into  a  hint  of 
lovely  yellowish  green,  and  those  same  branch- 
lets  will  be  holding  their  green  leaves  against 
a  wintry  blast  when  most  other  trees  have  given 
up  their  foliage  under  the  frost's  urgency.  Often 
have  the  orange -yellow  twigs  of  the  golden 
osier  illumined  a  somber  country-side  for  me 
as  I  looked  from  the  car  window;  and  close 
by  may  be  seen  other  willow  bushes  of  brown, 
green,  gray,  and  even  purple,  to  add  to  the 
color  compensation  of  the  season.  Then  may 
come    into    the    view,    as    one    flies   past,   a    great 

lOI 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

old  weeping  willow  rattling  its  bare  twigs  in 
the  wind;  and,  if  a  stream  is  passed,  there  are 
sure  to  be  seen  on  its  banks  the  sturdy  trunks 
of  the  white  and  the  black  willows  at  least. 
Think  of  an  average  landscape  with  the  willows 
eliminated,  and  there  will  appear  a  great  vacancy 
not    readily    filled    by    another   tree. 

The  weeping  willow  has  always  made  a  strong 
appeal  to  me,  but  never  one  of  simple  grief  or 
sorrow.  Its  expression  is  rather  of  great  dig- 
nity, and  I  remember  watching  in  somewhat  of 
awe  one  which  grew  near  my  childhood's  home, 
as  its  branches  writhed  and  twisted  in  a  violent 
rain-storm,  seeming  then  fairly  to  agonize,  so 
tossed  and  buffeted  were  they  by  the  wind. 
But  soon  the  storm  ceased,  the  sun  shone  on 
the  rounded  head  of  the  willow,  turning  the 
raindrops  to  quickly  vanishing  diamonds,  and 
the  great  tree  breathed  only  a  gentle  and 
benignant  peace.  When,  in  later  years,  I  came 
to  know  the  moss -hung  live-oak  of  the  South- 
land, the  weeping  willow  assumed  to  me  a  new 
dignity  and  value  in  the  northern  landscape, 
and  I  have  strongly  resented  the  attitude  of  a 
noted  writer  on   "Art  Out   of    Doors"   who   says 

1 02 


The   weeping  willow  ia  a  storm 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

of  it:  "I  never  once  have  seen  it  where  it  did 
not  hurt  the  effect  of  its  surroundings,  or  at 
least,  if  it  stood  apart  from  other  trees,  where 
some  tree  of  another  species  would  not  have 
looked  far  better."  One  of  the  great  merits  of 
the  tree,  its  difference  of  habit,  its  variation 
from    the    ordinary,  is    thus   urged   against    it. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  basket  willow,  which 
is  scientifically  Salix  viminalis^  and  an  intro- 
duction from  Europe,  as  indeed  are  many  of 
the  family.  In  my  father's  nursery  grew  a 
great  patch  of  basket  willows,  annually  cut  to 
the  ground  to  make  a  profusion  of  ^^ sprouts," 
from  which  were  cut  the  "tying  willows"  used 
to  bind  firmly  together  for  shipment  bundles 
of  young  trees.  It  was  an  achievement  to  be 
able  to  take  a  six-foot  withe,  and,  deftly 
twisting  the  tip  of  it  under  the  heel  to  a 
mass  of  flexible  fiber,  tie  this  twisted  portion 
into  a  substantial  loop ;  and  to  have  this  novel 
wooden  rope  then  endure  the  utmost  pull  of 
a  vigorous  man,  as  he  braced  his  feet  against 
the  bundle  of  trees  in  binding  the  withe  upon 
it,  gave  an  impression  of  anything  but  weak- 
ness   on    the    part   of   the   willow. 

104 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

Who  has  not  admired  the  soft  gray  silky 
buds  of  the  "pussy"  willow,  swelling  with  the 
spring's  impulse,  and  ripening  quickly  into  a 
"catkin"  loaded  with  golden  pollen?  Nowadays 
the  shoots  of  this  willow  are  "forced"  into 
bud  by  the  florists,  and  sold  in  the  cities  in 
great  quantities ;  but  really  to  see  it  one  must 
find  the  low  tree  or  bush  by  a  stream  in  the 
woods,  or  along  the  roadside,  with  a  chance 
to  note  its  fullness  of  blossom.  It  is  finest  just 
when  the  hepaticas  are  at  their  bluest  on  the 
warm  hillsides;  and,  one  sunny  afternoon  of  a 
spring  journey  along  the  north  branch  of  the 
Susquehanna  river,  I  did  not  know  which  of 
the  two  conspicuous  ornaments  of  the  deeply 
wooded  bank  made  me  most  anxious  to  jump 
from    the    too    swiftly   moving    train. 

This  pussy-willow  has  pleasing  leaves,  and 
is  a  truly  ornamental  shrub  or  small  tree  which 
will  flourish  quite  well  in  a  dry  back  yard,  as 
I  have  reason  to  know.  One  bright  day  in 
February  I  found  a  pussy-willow  tree,  with  its 
deep  purple  buds  showing  not  a  hint  of  the 
life  within.  The  few  twigs  brought  home 
quickly    expanded    when    placed    in    water,    and 

105 


x' 

'K-^ 


A    pussy-willow    in    a    park 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

gave  us  their  forecast  of  the  spring.  One  twig 
was,  out  of  curiosity,  left  in  the  water  after  the 
catkins  had  faded,  merely  to  see  what  would 
happen.  It  bravely  sent  forth  leaves,  while  at 
the  base  little  white  rootlets  appeared.  Its 
vigor  appealing  to  us,  it  was  planted  in  an  arid 
spot  in  our  back  yard,  and  it  is  now,  after  a 
year  and  a  half,  a  handsome,  slender  young 
tree  that  will  give  us  a  whole  family  of  silken 
pussy -buds  to  stroke  and  admire  another  spring. 
This  same  little  tree  is  called  also  the 
glaucous  willow,  and  it  is  botanically  Salix 
discolor.  It  is  more  distinct  than  some  others 
of  the  family,  for  the  willow  is  a  great  mixer. 
The  tree  expert  who  will  unerringly  distin- 
guish between  the  red  oak  and  the  scarlet 
oak  by  the  precise  angle  of  the  spinose  mar- 
gins of  the  leaves  (how  I  admire  an  accuracy 
I  do  not  possess ! )  will  balk  at  which  is  crack 
willow,  or  white  willow,  or  yellow  or  blue 
willow.  The  abundant  vigor  and  vitality  and 
freedom  of  the  family,  and  the  fact  that  it  is 
of  what  is  known  as  the  dioecious  habit  —  that 
is,  the  flowers  are  not  complete,  fertile  and 
infertile    flowers    being   borne    on    separate    trees 

107 


Blossoms   of   the 

—  make  it  most  ready  to  hybridize.  The 
pollen  of  the  black  willow  may  fertilize  the 
flower  of  the  white  willow,  with  a  result  that 
certainly  tends  to  grayness  on  the  worrying 
head  of  the  botanist  who,  in  after  years,  is 
trying    to    locate    the    result    of    the    cross ! 

There   is   much   variety   in   the   willow  flowers 

—  and  I  wonder  how  many  observers  really 
notice  any  other  willow  ^^ blossoms"  than  those 
of  the  showy  pussy?  A  superb  spring  day 
afield  took  me  along  a  fascinatingly  crooked 
stream,  the  Conodoguinet,  whose  banks  furnish 
a  congenial   and    as   yet  protected   (because  con- 

io8 


white    willow 


cealed  from  the  flower- hunting  vandal)  home 
for  wild  flowers  innumerable  and  most  beauti- 
ful, as  well  as  trees  that  have  ripened  into 
maturity.  An  earlier  visit  at  the  time  the 
bluebells  were  ringing  out  their  silent  message 
on  the  hillside,  in  exquisite  beauty,  with  the 
lavender  phlox  fairly  carpeting  the  woods,  gave 
a  glimpse  of  some  promising  willows  on  the 
other  side  of  the  stream.  Twilight  and  letters 
to  sign  —  how  hateful  the  desk  and  its  work 
seem  in  these  days  of  springing  life  outside  ! 
—  made  a  closer  inspection  impossible  then,  but 
a  golden   Saturday   afternoon   found   three   of  us, 

J  09 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

of  like  ideals,  hastening  to  this  tree  and  plant 
paradise.  A  mass  of  soft  yellow  drew  us  from 
the  highway  across  a  field  carpeted  thickly 
with  bluet  or  "quaker  lady,"  to  the  edge  of 
the  stream,  where  a  continuous  hum  showed 
that  the  bees  were  also  attracted.  It  was  one 
splendid  willow  in  full  bloom,  and  I  could  not 
and  as  yet  cannot  safely  say  whether  it  is  the 
crack  willow  or  the  white  willow ;  but  I  can 
affirm  of  a  certainty  that  it  was  a  delight  to 
the  eye,  the  mind  and  the  nostrils.  The 
extreme  fragility  of  the  smaller  twigs,  which 
broke  away  from  the  larger  limbs  at  the 
lightest  shake  or  jar,  gave  evidence  of  one  of 
Nature's  ways  of  distributing  plant  life ;  for  it 
seems  that  these  twigs,  as  I  have  previously 
said,  part  company  with  the  parent  tree  most 
readily,  float  away  on  the  stream,  and  easily 
establish  themselves  on  banks  and  bars,  where 
their  tough,  interlacing  roots  soon  form  an 
almost  impregnable  barrier  to  the  onslaught  of 
the  flood.  Only  a  stone's  throw  away  there 
stood  a  great  old  black  willow,  with  a  sturdy 
trunk  of  ebon  hue,  crowned  with  a  mass  of 
soft   green    leafage,    lighter    where    the    breeze 

no 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

lifted  up  the  under  side  to  the  sunHght. 
Many  times,  doubtless,  the  winds  had  shorn 
and  the  sleet  had  rudely  trimmed  this  old 
veteran,  but  there  remained  full  life  and  vigor, 
even    more    attractive    than    that    of   youth. 

Most  of  the  willows  are  shrubs  rather  than 
trees,  and  there  are  endless  variations,  as  I 
have  before  remarked.  Further,  the  species 
belonging  at  first  in  the  Eastern  Hemisphere 
have  spread  well  over  our  own  side  of  the 
globe,  so  that  it  seems  odd  to  regard  the  white 
willow  and  the  weeping  willow  as  foreigners. 
At  Niagara  Falls,  in  the  beautiful  park  on  the 
American  side,  on  the  islands  amid  the  toss  of 
the  waters,  there  are  many  willows,  and  those 
planted  by  man  are  no  less  beautiful  than  those 
resulting  from  Nature's  gardening.  In  spring 
I  have  had  pleasure  in  some  splendid  clumps  of 
a  form  with  lovely  golden  leaves  and  a  small, 
furry  catkin,  found  along  the  edge  of  the 
American  rapids.  I  wonder,  by  the  way,  how 
many  visitors  to  Niagara  take  note  of  the  superb 
collection  of  plants  and  trees  there  to  be  seen, 
and  which  it  is  a  grateful  relief  to  consider 
when    the    mind    is    wearied    with    the    majesty 

III 


WILLOWS^    AND    POPLARS 

and  the  vastness  of  Nature's  forces  shown  in 
the  cataract?  The  birds  are  visitors  to  Goat 
Island  and  the  other  islets  that  divide  the 
Niagara  River,  and  they  have  brought  there 
the    plants    of   America    in    wonderful    variety. 

There  is  one  willow  that  has  been  used  by 
the  nurserymen  to  produce  a  so-called  weeping 
form,  which,  like  most  of  these  monstrosities, 
is  not  commendable.  The  goat  willow  is  a 
vigorous  tree  introduced  from  Europe,  having 
large  and  rather  broad  and  coarse  leaves,  dark 
green  above  and  whitish  underneath.  It  is 
taken  as  a  "stock,"  upon  which,  at  a  conve- 
nient height,  the  skilled  juggler  with  trees 
grafts  a  drooping  or  pendulous  form  known  as 
the  Kilmarnock  willow,  thus  changing  the  habit 
of  the  tree  so  that  it  then  "weeps"  to  the 
ground.  Fortunately,  the  original  tree  some- 
times triumphs,  the  graft  dies,  and  a  lusty 
goat  willow  rears  a  rather  shapely  head  to 
the    sky. 

This  Kilmarnock  willow  is  a  favorite  of  the 
peripatetic  tree  agent,  and  I  have  enjoyed 
hugely  one  notable  evidence  of  his  persuasive 
eloquence     to     be     seen     in     a     Lebanon     Valley 

113 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

town,  inhabited  by  the  quaint  folk  known  as 
Pennsylvania  Germans.  All  along  the  line  of 
the  railroad  traversing  this  valley  may  be  seen 
these  distorted  willows  decorating  the  prim 
front  yards,  and  they  are  not  so  offensive  when 
used  with  other  shrubs  and  trees.  In  this  one 
instance,  however,  the  tree  agent  evidently 
found  a  customer  who  was  persuaded  that  if 
one  Kilmarnock  willow  was  a  good  thing  to 
have,  a  dozen  of  them  was  twelve  times  better; 
wherefore  his  dooryard  is  grotesquely  adorned 
with  that  many  flourishing  weepers,  giving  an 
aspect  that  is  anything  but  decorous  or  solemn. 
Some  time  the  vigilance  of  the  citizen  will  be 
relaxed,  it  may  be  hoped;  he  will  neglect  to 
cut  away  the  recurring  shoots  of  the  parent 
trees,  and  they  will  escape  and  destroy  the 
weeping  form  which  provides  so  much  sarcastic 
hilarity   for   the    passers-by. 

The  willow,  with  its  blood  relation,  the 
poplar,  is  often  "pollarded,"  or  trimmed  for 
wood,  and  its  abundant  vigor  enables  it  to 
recover  from  this  process  of  violent  abbrevia- 
tion more  satisfactorily  than  do  most  trees.  The 
result   is    usually  a  disproportionately   large    stem 

114 


WILLOJVS    AND    POPLARS 

or  bole,  for  the  lopping  off  of  great  branches 
always  tends  to  a  thickening  of  the  main  stem. 
The  abundant  leafage  of  both  willow  and 
poplar  soon  covers  the  scars,  and  there  is  less 
cause  to  mourn  than  in  the  case  of  maples  or 
other    "hard-wooded"    trees. 

If  my  readers  will  only  add  a  willow  section 
to  their  mental  observation  outfit,  there  will  be 
much  more  to  see  and  appreciate.  Look  for 
and  enjoy  in  the  winter  the  variation  in  twig 
color  and  bark  hue ;  notice  how  smoothly  lies 
the  covering  on  one  stem,  all  rugged  and 
marked  on  another.  In  the  earliest  spring 
examine  the  swelling  buds,  of  widely  differing 
color  and  character,  from  which  shortly  will 
spring  forth  the  catkins  or  aments  of  bloom, 
followed  by  the  leaves  of  varied  colors  in  the 
varied  species,  and  with  shapes  as  varied. 
Vivid  green,  soft  gray,  greenish  yellow;  dull 
surface  and  shining  surface  above,  pale  green 
to  almost  pure  white  beneath ;  from  the  long 
and  stringy  leaf  of  the  weeping  willow  to  the 
comparatively  broad  and  thick  leaf  of  the 
pussy-willow  —  there  is  variety  and  interest  in 
the     foliage     well    worth     the     attention     of     the 

115 


Clump    of   young  white    willows 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

tree-lover.  When  winter  comes,  there  will  be 
another  set  of  contrasts  to  see  in  the  way  the 
various  species  lose  their  leaves  and  get  ready 
for  the  rest  time  during  which  the  buds 
mature  and  ripen,  and  the  winter  colors  again 
shine    forth. 

These  observations  may  be  made  anywhere 
in  America,  practically,  for  the  willow  is  almost 
indififerent  to  locality,  growing  everywhere  that 
its  far-reaching  roots  can  find  the  moisture 
which  it  loves,  and  which  it  rapidly  transpires 
to  the  thirsty  air.  As  Miss  Keeler  well  remarks, 
"The  genus  Salix  is  admirably  fitted  to  go 
forth  and  inhabit  the  earth,  for  it  is  tolerant 
of  all  soils  and  asks  only  water.  It  creeps 
nearer  to  the  North  Pole  than  any  other  woody 
plant  except  its  companion  the  birch.  It  trails 
upon  the  ground  or  rises  one  hundred  feet 
in  the  air.  In  North  America  it  follows  the 
water -courses  to  the  limit  of  the  temperate 
zone,  enters  the  tropics,  crosses  the  equator,  and 
appears  in  the  mountains  of  Peru  and  Chili. 
.  .  .  .  The  books  record  one  hundred  and 
sixty  species  in  the  world,  and  these  sport  and 
hybridize     to     their     own     content     and     to     the 

117 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

despair  of  botanists.  Then,  too,  it  comes  of 
an  ancient  line  ;  for  impressions  of  leaves  in  the 
cretaceous  rocks  show  that  it  is  one  of  the 
oldest   of   plants." 

Common  it  is,  and  therefore  overlooked ; 
but  the  reader  may  well  resolve  to  watch  the 
w^illow  in  spring  and  summer,  with  its  bloom 
and  fruit ;  to  follow  its  refreshing  color  through 
winter's  chill;  to  observe  its  cheer  and  dignity; 
and  to  see  the  wind  toss  its  slender  wands  and 
turn    its    graceful    leaves. 

The  poplars  and  the  willows  are  properly 
considered  together,  for  together  they  form  the 
botanical  world  family  of  the  Salicaceae.  Many 
characteristics  of  bloom  and  growth,  of  sap  and 
bark,  unite  the  two,  and  surely  both,  though 
alike  common  to  the  world,  are  common  and 
familiar  trees  to  the  dwellers  in  North  America. 

One  of  my  earliest  tree  remembrances  has 
to  do  with  a  spreading  light -leaved  growth 
passed  under  every  day  on  the  way  to  school  — 
and,  like  most  school -boys,  I  was  not  unwill- 
ing to  stop  for  anything  of  interest  that  might 
put  ofif  arrival  at  the  seat  of  learning.  This 
great   tree    had    large    and   peculiar  winter .  buds, 

ii8 


White   poplars    in    spring-time 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

that  always  seemed  to  have  advance  information 
as  to  the  coming  of  spring,  for  they  would 
swell  out  and  become  exceedingly  shiny  at  the 
first  touch  of  warm  sun.  Soon  the  sun -caress- 
ing would  be  responded  to  by  the  bursting  of 
the  buds,  or  the  falling  away  of  their  ingenious 
outer  protecting  scales,  which  dropped  to  the 
ground,  where,  sticky  and  shining,  and  ex- 
traordinarily aromatic  in  odor,  they  were  just 
what  a  curious  school-boy  enjoyed  investigating. 
"Balm  of  Gilead"  was  the  name  that  inquiry 
brought  for  this  tree,  and  the  resinous  and 
sweet -smelling  buds  which  preceded  the  rather 
inconspicuous  catkins  or  aments  of  bloom 
seemed    to  justify   the    Biblical    designation. 

Nearly  a  world  tree  is  this  poplar,  which  in 
some  one  of  its  variable  forms  is  called  also 
tacamahac,  and  balsam  poplar  as  well.  Its 
cheerful  upright  habit,  really  fine  leaves  and 
generally  pleasing  air  commend  it,  but  there 
is  one  trouble  —  it  is  almost  too  vigorous  and 
anxious  to  spread,  which  it  does  by  means  of 
shoots  or  "suckers,"  upspringing  from  its  wide 
area  of  root -growth,  thus  starting  a  little  forest 
of    its     own     that    gives    other    trees    but    small 

1 20 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

chance.  But  on  a  street,  where  the  repression 
of  pavements  and  sidewalks  interferes  with  this 
exuberance,  the  balsam  poplar  is  well  worth 
planting. 

The  poplars  as  a  family  are  pushing  and 
energetic  growers,  and  serve  a  great  purpose 
in  the  reforestation  of  American  acres  that  have 
been  carelessly  denuded  of  their  tree  cover. 
Here  the  trembling  aspen  particularly,  as  the 
commonest  form  of  all  is  named,  comes  in  to 
quickly  cover  and  shade  the  ground,  and  give 
aid  to  the  hard  woods  and  the  conifers  that 
form   the   value    of   the    forest    growth. 

This  same  American  aspen,  a  consideration 
of  the  lightly  hung  leaves  of  which  has  been 
useful  to  many  poets,  is  a  well-known  tree 
of  graceful  habit,  particularly  abundant  in  the 
forests  north  of  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey, 
and  occupying  clearings  plentifully  and  quickly. 
Its  flowers  are  in  catkins,  as  with  the  rest  of 
the  family,  and,  like  other  poplars,  they  are  in 
two  kinds,  male  and  female,  or  staminate  and 
pistillate,  which  accounts  for  some  troubles  the 
inexperienced   investigator  has  in  locating  them. 

There    is    another    aspen,    the    large-toothed 

121 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

form,  that  is  a  distinct  botanical  species ;  but 
I  have  never  been  able  to  separate  it,  where- 
fore I  do  not  try  to  tell  of  it  here,  lest  I  fall 
under  condemnation  as  a  blind  leader,  not  of 
the    blind,    but   of    those    who    would    see ! 

In  many  cities,  especially  in  cities  that  have 
experienced  real -estate  booms,  and  have  had 
^^extensions''  laid  out  "complete  with  all  im- 
provements," there  is  to  be  seen  a  poplar  that 
has  the  merit  of  quick  and  pleasing  growth 
and  considerable  elegance  as  well.  Alas,  it  is 
like  the  children  of  the  tropics  in  quick  beauty 
and  quick  decadence !  The  Carolina  poplar,  it 
is  called,  being  a  variety  of  the  widespread 
Cottonwood.  Grow?  All  that  is  needed  is  to 
cut  a  lusty  branch  of  it,  point  it,  and  drive  it 
into    the    earth  —  it   will    do    the    rest! 

This  means  cheap  trees  and  quick  growth, 
and  that  is  why  whole  new  streets  in  West 
Philadelphia,  for  instance,  are  given  up  to  the 
Carolina  poplar.  Its  clear,  green,  shining  leaves, 
of  good  size,  coming  early  in  spring;  its  easily 
guided  habit,  either  upright  or  spreading;  its 
very  rapid  growth,  all  commend  it.  But  its 
coarseness    and    lack    of    real    strength,    and    its 

122 


The    Carolina    poplar    as    a    street   tre? 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

continual  invitation  to  the  tree -butcher  and  the 
electric  lineman,  indicate  the  undesirability  of 
giving  it  more  than  a  temporary  position,  to 
shade    while    better    trees    are    growing. 

But  I  must  not  get  into  the  economics  of 
street- tree  planting.  I  started  to  tell  of  the 
blossoms  of  this  same  Carolina  poplar,  which 
are  decidedly  interesting.  Just  when  the  sun 
has  thoroughly  warmed  up  the  air  of  spring 
there  is  a  sudden,  rapid  thickening  of  buds  over 
one's  head  on  this  poplar.  One  year  the  tree 
under  my  observation  swelled  and  swelled  its 
buds,  which  were  shining  more  and  more  in 
the  sun,  until  I  was  sure  the  next  day  would 
bring  a  burst  of  leaves.  But  the  weather  was 
dry,  and  it  was  not  until  that  wonderful  solvent 
and  accelerator  of  growing  things,  a  warm 
spring  rain,  fell  softly  upon  the  tree,  that  the 
pent-up  life  force  was  given  vent.  Then  came, 
not  leaves,  but  these  long  catkins,  springing 
out  with  great  rapidity,  until  in  a  few  hours 
the  tree  glowed  with  their  redness.  A  second 
edition  of  the  shower,  falling  sharply,  brought 
many  of  the  catkins  to  the  ground,  where 
they    lay    about    like    large    caterpillars. 

124 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

The  whole  process  of  this  blooming  was 
interesting,  curious,  but  hardly  beautiful,  and  it 
seemed  to  fit  in  with  the  restless  character  of 
the  poplar  family — a  family  of  trees  with  more 
vigor  than  dignity,  more  sprightliness  than 
grace.  As  Professor  Bailey  says  of  the  cotton- 
wood,  "It  is  cheerful  and  restive.  One  is  not 
moved  to  lie  under  it  as  he  is  under  a  maple 
or  an  oak."  Yet  there  are  not  wanting  some 
poplars    of   impressive    character. 

One  occurs  to  me,  growing  on  a  wide  street 
of  my  home  town,  opposite  a  church  with  a 
graceful  spire.  This  white  or  silver -leaved  pop- 
lar has  for  many  years  been  a  regular  prey  of 
the  gang  of  tree  -  trimmers,  utterly  without 
knowledge  of  or  regard  for  trees,  that  infests 
this  town.  They  hack  it  shamefully,  and  I 
look  at  it  and  say,  "Well,  the  old  poplar  is 
ruined  now,  surely!"  But  a  season  passes,  and 
I  look  again,  to  see  that  the  tremendous  vigor 
of  the  tree  has  triumphed  over  the  butchers ; 
its  sores  have  been  concealed,  new  limbs  have 
pushed  out,  and  it  has  again,  in  its  unusual 
height,  assumed  a  dignity  not  a  whit  inferior 
to    that   of   the    church    spire    opposite. 

125 


Winter   aspect   of   the   cotton  wood   tree 


WILLOWS   AND    POPLARS 

This  white  poplar  is  at  its  best  on  the  bank 
©f  a  stream,  where  its  small  forest  of  "suck- 
ers" most  efficiently  protects  the  slope  against 
the  destructive  action  of  floods.  One  such  tree 
with  its  family  and  friends  I  saw  in  full  bloom 
along  the  Susquehanna,  and  it  gave  an  impres- 
sion of  solidity  and  size,  as  well  as  of  lusty 
vigor,  and  I  have  always  liked  it  since.  The 
cheerful  bark  is  not  the  least  of  its  attractions  — 
but  it  is  a  tree  for  its  own  place,  and  not  for 
every  place,  by  reason  of  the  tremendous 
colonizing   power   of   its    root -sprouts. 

I  wonder,  by  the  way,  if  many  realize  the 
persistence  and  vigor  of  the  roots  of  a  tree  of 
the  "suckering"  habit?  Some  years  ago  an 
ailanthus,  a  tree  of  vigor  and  beauty  of  foliage 
but  nastiness  of  flower  odor,  was  cut  away 
from  its  home  when  excavation  was  being 
made  for  a  building,  which  gave  me  oppor- 
tunity to  follow  a  few  of  its  roots.  One  of 
them  traveled  in  search  of  food,  and  toward 
the  opportunity  of  sending  up  a  shoot,  over  a 
hundred   feet  I 

The  impending  scarcity  of  spruce  logs  to 
feed    the    hungry    maws    of    the    machines    that 

127 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

make  paper  for  our  dally  journals  has  turned 
attention  to  several  forms  of  the  rapid -growing 
poplar  for  this  use.  The  aspen  is  acceptable, 
and  also  the  Carolina  poplar,  and  these  trees 
are  being  planted  in  large  quantities  for  the 
eventual  making  of  wood-pulp.  Even  today, 
many  newspapers  are  printed  on  poplar,  and 
exposure  to  the  rays  of  the  truth- searching 
sun  for  a  few  hours  will  disclose  the  yellow- 
ness of  the  paper,  if  not  of  the  tree  from 
which    it   has    been    ground. 

Few  whose  eyes  are  turned  upward  toward 
the  trees  have  failed  to  note  that  exclamation- 
point  of  growth,  the  Lombardy  poplar.  Origi- 
nating in  that  portion  of  Europe  indicated  by 
its  common  name,  and,  indeed,  a  botanical 
form  of  the  European  black  poplar,  it  is  nev- 
ertheless widely  distributed  in  America.  When 
it  has  been  properly  placed,  it  introduces  truly 
a  note  of  distinction  into  the  landscape.  Tow- 
ering high  in  the  air,  and  carrying  the  eye 
along  its  narrowly  oval  contour  to  a  skyward 
point,  it  is  lofty  and  pleasing  in  a  park.  It 
agreeably  breaks  the  sky-Hne  in  many  places, 
and  is  emphatic  in  dignified  groups.    To  plant  it 

128 


WILLOfVS    AND    POPLARS 


Lombardy    poplar 


in  rows  is  wrong ;  and  I  say 
this  as  an  innocent  offender 
myself.  In  boyhood  I  lived 
along  the  banks  of  the  broad 
but  shallow  Susquehanna, 
and  enjoyed  the  boating  pos- 
sible upon  that  stream  when 
it  was  not  reduced,  as  graph- 
ically described  by  a  dis- 
gusted riverman,  to  merely 
a  heavy  dew.  Many  times  I 
lost  my  way  returning  to  the 
steep  bluff  near  my  home 
after  the  sun  had  gone  to 
rest,  and  a  hard  pull  against 
the  swift  current  would  en- 
sue as  I  skirted  the  bank, 
straining  eyes  for  landmarks 
in  the  dusk.  It  occurred  to 
me  to  plant  six  Lombardy 
poplars  on  the  top  of  the 
bluff,  which  might  serve  as 
easily  recognized  landmarks. 
Four  of  them  grew,  and  are 
now  large  trees,  somewhat 
129 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

offensive  to  a  quickened  sense  of  appropriate- 
ness. Long  since  the  old  home  has  been  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  city's  advance,  and  I  suppose 
none  who  now  see  those  four  spires  of  green 
on  the  river -bank  even  guess  at  the  reason  for 
their  existence. 

The  poplar  family,  as  a  whole,  is  exuberant 
with  vigor,  and  interesting  more  on  that  account 
than  by  reason  of  its  general  dignity  or  strength 
or  elegance.  It  is  well  worth  a  little  attention 
and  study,  and  the  consideration  particula,rly  of 
its  bloom  periods,  to  which  I  commend  the 
tree -sense  of  my  readers  as  they  take  the  tree 
walks  that  ought  to  punctuate  these  chapters. 


130 


Cl)e  Clrn  anU  tlje 
CuHp 


Cl)e  €lm  anti  tl)e  Culip 

AMERICA  has  much  that  is  unique  in 
/\  plant  and  tree  growth,  as  one  learns 
who  sees  first  the  collections  of  Amer- 
ican plants  shown  with  pride  by  acute  garden- 
ers and  estate  owners  in  England  and  on  the 
European  Continent.  Many  a  citizen  of  our 
country  must  needs  confess  with  some  shame 
that  his  first  estimation  of  the  singular  beauty 
of  the  American  laurel  has  been  born  in 
England,  where  the  imported  plants  are  care- 
fully nurtured ;  and  the  European  to  whom  the 
rhododendrons  of  his  own  country  and  of  the 
Himalayas  are  familiar  is  ready  to  exclaim  in 
rapture  at  the  superb  effect  and  tropical  rich- 
ness of  our  American  species,  far  more  lusty 
and  more  truly  beautiful  here  than  the  intro- 
ductions which  must  be  heavily  paid  for  and 
constantly    coddled. 

For   no    trees,    however,   may   Americans  feel 
more    pride    than    for    our   American    elms    and 

^33 


GETTING    ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

our  no  less  American  tulip,  the  latter  miscalled 
tulip  ^^poplar."  Both  are  trees  practically  unique 
to  the  country,  both  are  widespread  over  East- 
ern North  America,  both  are  thoroughly  trees 
of  the  people,  both  attain  majestic  propor- 
tions, both  are  long-lived  and  able  to  endure 
much  hardship  without  a  full  giving  up  of 
either    beauty   or    dignity. 

The  American  elm  —  how  shall  I  properly 
speak  of  its  exceeding  grace  and  beauty !  In 
any  landscape  it  introduces  an  element  of  dis- 
tinction and  elegance  not  given  by  any  other 
tree.  Looking  across  a  field  at  a  cluster  of 
trees,  there  may  be  a  doubt  as  to  the  identity 
of  an  oak,  a  chestnut,  a  maple,  an  ash,  but 
no  mistake  can  be  made  in  regard  to  an  elm  — 
it  stands  alone  in  the  simple  elegance  of  its 
vase -like  form,  while  its  feathery  branchlets, 
waving  in  the  lightest  breeze,  add  to  the 
refined  and  classic  effect.  I  use  the  word 
"classic"  advisedly,  because,  although  apparently 
out  of  place  in  describing  a  tree,  it  never- 
theless seems  needed  for  the  form  of  the 
American    elm. 

The    elm    is    never    rugged    as    is    the    oak, 

134 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    TULIP 

but  it  gives  no  impression  of  effeminacy  or 
weakness.  Its  uprightness  is  forceful  and  strong, 
and  its  clean  and  shapely  bole  impresses  the 
beholder  as  a  joining  of  gently  outcurving 
columns,  ample  in  strength  and  of  an  elegance 
belonging  to  itself  alone.  If  I  may  dare  to 
compare  man-made  architectural  forms  with 
the  trees  that  graced  the  garden  of  Eden,  I 
would  liken  the  American  elm  (it  is  also  the 
water  elm  and  the  white  elm,  and  botanically 
Ulmus  Americana)  to  the  Grecian  types,  com- 
bining stability  with  elegance,  rather  than  to 
the  more  rugged  works  of  the  Goths.  Yet 
the  free  swing  of  the  elm's  wide -spreading 
branches  inevitably  suggests  the  pointed  Gothic 
arch    in    simplicity    and    obvious    strength. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  when  the  American 
elm  is  most  worthy  of  admiration.  In  sum- 
mer those  same  arching  branches  are  clothed 
and  tipped  with  foliage  of  such  elegance  and 
delicacy  as  the  form  of  the  tree  would  seem 
to  predicate.  The  leaf  itself  is  ornate,  its 
straight  ribs  making  up  a  serrated  and  pointed 
oval  form  of  the  most  interesting  character. 
These    leaves    hang     by    slender    stems,    inviting 


A    mature   American    elm 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    TULIP 

the  gentlest  zephyr  to  start  them  to  singing  of 
comfort  in  days  of  summer  heat.  The  elm  is 
fully  clothed  down  to  the  drooping  tips  of  the 
branchlets  with  foliage,  which,  though  deepest 
green  above,  reflects,  under  its  dense  shade, 
a  soft  light  from  the  paler  green  of  the  lower 
side.  It  is  no  wonder  that  New  England 
claims  fame  for  her  elms,  which,  loved  and 
cared  for,  arch  over  the  long  village  streets 
that  give  character  to  the  homes  of  the 
descendants  of  the  Puritan  fathers.  The  fully 
grown  elm  presents  to  the  sun  a  darkly  ab- 
sorbent hue,  and  to  the  passer-by  who  rests 
beneath  its  shade  the  most  grateful  and  restful 
color   in    all    the    rainbow's    palette. 

Then,  too,  the  evaporative  power  of  these 
same  leaves  is  simply  enormous,  and  generally 
undreamed  of.  Who  would  think  that  a  great, 
spreading  elm,  reaching  into  the  air  of  August 
a  hundred  feet,  and  shading  a  circle  of  nearly 
as  great  diameter,  was  daily  cooling  the  atmos- 
phere with  tons  of  water,  silently  drawn  from 
the    bosom   of    Mother    Earth ! 

Like  many  other  common  trees,  the  Amer- 
ican   elm    blooms    almost   unnoticed.     When   the 

137 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

silver  maple  bravely  pushes  out  its  hardy  buds 
in  earliest  spring  —  or  often  in  what  might  be 
called  latest  winter  —  the  elm  is  ready,  and  the 
sudden  swelling  of  the  twigs,  away  above  our 
heads  in  March  or  April,  is  not  caused  by 
the  springing  leaves,  but  is  the  flowering  effort 
of  this  noble  tree.  The  bloom  sets  curiously 
about  the  yet  bare  branches,  and  the  little 
brownish  yellow  or  reddish  flowers  are  seem- 
ingly only  a  bunch  of  stamens.  They  do 
their  work  promptly,  and  the  little  flat  fruits, 
or  "samaras,"  are  ripened  and  dropped  be- 
fore most  of  us  realize  that  the  spring  is 
fully  upon  us.  These  seeds  germinate  readily, 
and  I  recall  the  great  pleasure  with  which  a 
noted  horticultural  professor  showed  me  what 
he  called  his  "  elm  lawn,"  one  summer.  It 
seemed  that  almost  every  one  of  the  thousands 
of  seeds  that,  just  about  the  time  his  prepara- 
tions for  sowing  a  lawn  were  completed,  had 
softly  fallen  from  the  great  elm  which  guards 
and  shades  his  door-yard,  had  found  good 
ground,  and  the  result  was  a  miniature  forest 
of  tiny  trees,  giving  an  effect  of  solid  green 
which   was   truly   a   tree   lawn. 

138 


The    delicate    tracery    of   the    American    elm    in    winter 


GETTING    JC^UJINTED    WITH   THE    TREES 

But,  after  all,  I  think  it  is  in  winter  that 
the  American  elm  is  at  its  finest,  for  then 
stand  forth  most  fully  revealed  the  wonderful 
symmetry  of  its  structure  and  the  elegance  of 
its  lines.  It  has  one  advantage  in  its  great 
size,  which  is  well  above  the  average,  for  it 
lifts  its  graceful  head  a  hundred  feet  or  more 
above  the  earth.  The  stem  is  usually  clean 
and  regular,  and  the  branches  spread  out  in 
closely  symmetrical  relation,  so  that,  as  seen 
against  the  cold  sky  of  winter,  leafless  and 
bare,  they  seem  all  related  parts  of  a  most 
harmonious  whole.  Other  great  trees  are 
notable  for  the  general  effect  of  strength  or 
massiveness,  individual  branches  departing  much 
from  the  average  line  of  the  whole  structure ; 
but  the  American  elm  is  regular  in  all  its 
parts,    as   well    as    of    general    stateliness. 

As  I  have  noted,  the  people  of  the  New 
England  States  value  and  cherish  their  great 
elms,  and  they  are  accustomed  to  think  them- 
selves the  only  possessors  of  this  unique  tree. 
We  have,  however,  as  good  elms  in  Pennsyl- 
vania as  there  are  in  New  England,  and  I 
hope    the    day    is    not    far    distant   when  we   shall 

140 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    TULIP 

esteem  them  as  highly.  The  old  elm  monarch 
which  stands  at  the  gingerbread  brownstone 
entrance  of  the  Capitol  Park  in  Pennsylvania's 
seat  of  government  has  had  a  hard  battle, 
defenseless  as  it  is,  against  the  indifference  of 
those  whom  it  has  shaded  for  generations,  and 
who  carelessly  permitted  the  telegraph  and 
telephone  linemen  to  use  it  or  chop  it  at  their 
will.  But  latterly  there  has  been  an  awakening 
which  means  protection,  I  think,  for  this  fine 
old    landmark. 

The  two  superb  elms,  known  as  "Paul  and 
Virginia,"  that  make  notable  the  north  shore 
of  the  Susquehanna  at  Wilkesbarre,  are  subjects 
of  local  pride ;  which  seems,  however,  not 
strong  enough  to  prevent  the  erection  of  a 
couple  of  nasty  little  shanties  against  their  great 
trunks.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  however, 
that  the  sentiment  of  reverence  for  great  trees, 
and  of  justice  to  them  for  their  beneficent 
influence,  is  spreading  westward  and  south- 
ward from  New  England.  It  gives  me  keen 
pleasure  to  learn  of  instances  where  paths, 
pavements  or  roadways  have  been  changed,  to 
avoid     doing     violence     to     good     trees ;     and     a 

141 


GETTING  AC  TAINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

recent  account  of  the  creation  of  a  trust  fund 
for  the  care  of  a  great  oak,  as  well  as  a 
unique  instance  in  Georgia,  where  a  deed  has 
been  recorded  giving  a  fine  elm  a  quasi -legal 
title  to  its  own  ground,  show  that  the  rights 
of   trees    are   coming    to    be    recognized. 

I  have  said  little  of  the  habitat,  as  the 
botanist  puts  it,  of  the  American  elm.  It 
graces  all  North  America  east  of  the  Rockies, 
and  the  specimens  one  sees  in  Michigan  or 
Canada  are  as  happy,  apparently,  as  if  they 
grew  in  Connecticut  or  in  Virginia.  Our 
increasingly  beautiful  national  Capital,  the  one 
city  with  an  intelligent  and  controlled  system 
of  tree -planting,  shows  magnificent  avenues  of 
flourishing  elms. 

But  I  must  not  forget  some  other  elms, 
beautiful  and  satisfactory  in  many  places.  It 
is  no  discredit  to  our  own  American  elm  to 
say  that  the  English  elm  is  a  superb  tree 
in  America.  It  seems  to  be  characteristically 
British  in  its  sturdy  habit,  and  forms  a  grand 
trunk. 

The  juicy  inner  bark  of  the  red  or  "slip- 
pery" elm  was   always   acceptable,  in  lieu  of  the 

142 


The    English    elm    in    winter 


GETTING  AC^AINTED  -WITH    THE    TREES 

chewing-gum  which  had  not  then  become  so 
common,  to  a  certain  ever -hungry  boy  who 
used  to  think  as  much  of  what  a  tree  would 
furnish  that  was  eatable  as  he  now  does  of  its 
beauty.  Later,  the  other  uses  of  the  bark  of 
this  tree  became  known  to  the  same  boy,  but 
it  was  many  years  before  he  came  really  to 
know  the  slippery  elm.  One  day  a  tree 
branch  overhead  showed  what  seemed  to  be 
remarkable  little  green  flowers,  which  on 
examination  proved  to  be,  instead,  the  very 
interesting  fruit  of  this  elm,  each  little  seed 
securely  held  inside  a  very  neat  and  small  flat 
bag.  Looking  at  it  earlier  the  next  spring, 
the  conspicuous  reddish  brown  color  of  the 
bud -scales   was    noted. 

I  have  never  seen  the  "wahoo,"  or  winged 
elm  of  the  South,  and  there  are  several  other 
native  elms,  as  well  as  a  number  of  introduc- 
tions from  the  Eastern  Hemisphere,  with 
which  acquaintance  is  yet  to  be  made.  All 
of  them  together,  I  will  maintain  with  the 
quixotic  enthusiasm  of  lack  of  knowledge,  are 
not  worth  as  much  as  one -half  hour  spent 
in    looking   up    under    the    leafy    canopy   of   our 

144 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    "TULIP 

own  preeminent  American  elm  —  a  tree  surely 
among  those  given  by  the  Creator  for  the 
healing    of    the    nations. 

The  tulip -tree,  so  called  obviously  because 
of  the  shape  of  its  flowers,  has  a  most  mellif- 
luous and  pleasing  botanical  name,  Liriodendron 
Tulipifera  —  is  not  that  euphonious?  Just  plain 
^^liriodendron"  —  how  much  better  that  sounds 
as  a  designation  for  one  of  the  noblest  of 
American  forest  trees  than  the  misleading 
"common"  names!  "Tulip  -  tree,"  for  a  resem- 
blance of  the  form  only  of  its  extraordinary 
blooms;  "yellow  poplar,"  probably  because  it 
is  not  yellow,  and  is  in  no  way  related  to  the 
poplars;  and  "whitewood,"  the  Western  name, 
because  its  wood  is  whiter  than  that  of  some 
other  native  trees.  "Liriodendron"  translated 
means  "lily- tree,"  says  my  learned  friend  who 
knows  Greek,  and  that  is  a  fitting  designation 
for  this  tree,  which  proudly  holds  forth  its 
flowers,  as  notable  and  beautiful  as  any  lily,  and 
far  more  dignified  and  refined  than  the  gaudy 
tulip.  I  like  to  repeat  this  smooth -sounding, 
truly  descriptive  and  dignified  name  for  a  tree 
worthy    all     admiration.      Liriodendron !      Away 

145 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH   fUE    TREES 

with  the  "common"  names,  when  there  is  such 
a   pleasing    scientific    cognomen    available ! 

By  the  way,  why  should  people  who  will 
twist  their  American  tongues  all  awry  in  an 
attempt  to  pronounce  French  words  in  which 
the  necessary  snort  is  unexpressed  visually  and 
half  the  characters  are  "silent,"  mostly  exclaim 
at  the  alleged  difficulty  of  calling  trees  and 
plants  by  their  world  names,  current  among 
educated  people  everywhere,  while  preferring 
some  misleading  "common"  name?  Very  few 
scientific  plant  names  are  as  difficult  to 
pronounce  as  is  the  word  "chrysanthemum," 
and  yet  the  latter  comes  as  glibly  from  the 
tongue  as  do  "geranium,"  "rhododendron," 
and  the  like.  Let  us,  then,  at  least  when  we 
have  as  good  a  name  as  liriodendron  for  so 
good  a  tree,  use  it  in  preference  to  the  most 
decidedly  "common"  names  that  belie  and 
mislead. 

I  have  said  that  this  same  tulip -tree  — 
which  I  will  call  liriodendron  hereafter,  at  a 
venture  —  is  a  notable  American  tree,  peculiar 
to  this  country.  So  believed  the  botanists  for 
many     years,     until      an     inquiring     investigator 

146 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    TULIP 

found  that  China,  too,  had  the  same  tree,  in 
a  Hmited  way.  We  Vs^ill  still  claim  it  as  an 
American  native,  and  tell  the  Chinamen  they 
are  fortunate  to  have  such  a  superb  tree  in 
their  little -known  forests.  They  have  undoubt- 
edly taken  advantage,  in  their  art  forms,  of 
its  peculiarly  shaped  leaves,  if  not  of  the 
flowers  and  the  curious  "candlesticks"  that 
succeed    them. 

Let  us  consider  this  liriodendron  first  as  a 
forest  tree,  as  an  inhabitant  of  the  "great 
woods"  that  awed  the  first  intelligent  observers 
from  Europe,  many  generations  back.  Few  of 
our  native  trees  reach  such  a  majestic  height, 
here  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  continent,  its 
habitat.  Ordinarily  it  builds  its  harmonious 
structure  to  a  height  of  seventy  or  a  hundred 
feet;  but  occasional  individuals  double  this  alti- 
tude, and  reach  a  trunk  diameter  of  ten  feet. 
While  in  the  close  forest  it  towers  up  with  a 
smooth,  clean  bole,  in  open  places  it  assumes 
its  naturally  somewhat  conical  form  very 
promptly.  Utterly  dissimilar  in  form  from  the 
American  elm,  it  seems  to  stand  for  dignity, 
solidity    and  vigor,   and    yet    to  yield   nothing   in 

.147 


GETTING   ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 


Winter   effect    of  tulip    trees 


the  way  of  true  ele- 
gance. The  botanists 
tell  us  it  prefers  deep 
and  moist  soil,  but  I 
know  that  it  lives  and 
seems  happy  in  many 
soils  and  in  many 
places.  Always  and 
everywhere  it  shows  a 
clean,  distinct  trunk, 
its  brown  bark  uni- 
formly furrowed,  but 
in  such  a  manner 
as  to  give  a  nearly 
smooth  appearance  at 
a  little  distance.  The 
branches  do  not  leave 
the  stem  so  imper- 
ceptibly as  do  those 
which  give  the  elm  its 
very  distinct  form,  but 
rather  start  at  a  right 
angle,  leaving  the  dis- 
tinct central  column 
of   solid    strength    un- 


148 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    fULIP 

impaired.  The  winter  tracery  of  these  branches, 
and  the  whole  effect  of  the  liriodendron  without 
foHage,  is  extremely  distinct  and  pleasing.  I  have 
in  mind  a  noble  group  of  great  liriodendrons 
which  I  first  saw  against  an  early  April  sky  of 
blue  and  white.  The  trees  had  grown  close,  and 
had  interlaced  their  somewhat  twisty  branches, 
so  that  the  general  impression  was  that  of  one 
great  tree  supported  on  several  stems.  The  pure 
beauty  of  these  very  tall  and  very  stately  trees, 
thus  grouped  and  with  every  twig  sharply  out- 
lined, I  shall  always   remember. 

The  liriodendron  is  more  fortunate  than 
some  other  trees,  for  it  has  several  points  of 
attractiveness.  Its  stature  and  its  structure  are 
alike  notable,  its  foHage  entirely  unique,  and 
its  flowers  and  seed-pods  even  more  interest- 
ing. The  leaf  is  very  easily  recognized  when 
once  known.  It  is  large,  but  not  in  any 
way  coarse,  and  is  thrust  forth  as  the  tree 
grows,  in  a  peculiarly  pleasing  way.  Sheathed 
in  the  manner  characteristic  of  the  magnolia 
family,  of  which  the  liriodendron  is  a  notable 
member,  the  leaves  come  to  the  light  prac- 
tically    folded     back     on     themselves,     between 

149 


A   great    liriodendron   in   bloom 


(PftOPtKTV  Ot= 

SftjH  COLLEGE  UBRAR 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    TULIP 

the  two  protecting  envelopes,  which  remain 
until  the  leaf  has  stretched  out  smoothly. 
Yellowish  green  at  first,  they  rapidly  take  on 
the  bright,  strong  green  of  maturity.  The 
texture  is  singularly  refined,  and  it  is  a  pleas- 
ure to  handle  these  smooth  leaves,  of  a  shape 
which  stamps  them  at  once  on  the  memory, 
and  of  a  coloring,  both  above  and  below,  that 
is  most  attractive.  They  are  maintained  on 
long,  slender  stems,  or  ^^petioles,"  and  these 
stems  give  a  great  range  of  flexibility,  so  that 
the  leaves  of  the  liriodendron  are,  as  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  puts  it,  ^^intensely  individual, 
each  one  moving  to  suit  himself." 

Of  course  all  this  moving,  and  this  out- 
breaking of  the  leaves  from  their  envelopes, 
take  place  far  above  one's  head,  on  mature 
trees.  It  will  be  found  well  worth  while,  how- 
ever, for  the  tree -lover  to  look  in  the  woods 
for  the  rather  numerous  young  trees  of  the 
tulip,  and  to  observe  the  very  interesting  way 
in  which  the  growth  proceeds.  The  beautiful 
form  and  color  of  the  leaves  may  also  be 
thus  conveniently  noted,  as  also  in  the  autumn 
the   soft,   clear   yellow  early  assumed. 


GETTING   AC^AINTED   WITH    THE    TREES 

It  is  the  height  and  spread  of  the  lirioden- 
dron  that  keep  its  truly  wonderful  flowers  out 
of  the  public  eye.  If  they  were  produced  on 
a  small  tree  like  the  familiar  dogwood,  for 
instance,  so  that  they  might  be  nearer  to  the 
ground,  they  would  receive  more  of  the  admi- 
ration so  fully  their  due.  In  Washington, 
where,  as  I  have  said,  trees  are  planted  by 
design  and  not  at  random,  there  are  whole 
avenues  of  liriodendrons,  and  it  was  my  good 
fortune  one  May  to  drive  between  these  lines 
of  strong  and  shapely  young  trees  just  when 
they  were  in  full  bloom.  The  appearance  of 
these  beautiful  cups,  each  one  held  upright, 
not  drooping,  wds  most  striking  and  elegant. 
Some  time,  other  municipalities  will  learn  wis- 
dom from  the  example  set  in  Washington,  and 
we  may  expect  to  see  some  variety  in  our 
street  trees,  now  monotonously  confined  for 
the  most  part  to  the  maples,  poplars,  and  a 
few  good  trees  that  would  be  more  valued  if 
interspersed  with  other  equally  good  trees  of 
diflferent  character.  The  pin -oak,  the  elm,  the 
sweet -gum,  or  liquidambar,  the  ginkgo,  and 
a     half-dozen     or    more     beautiful    and    sturdy 

152 


Flowers   of  the    liriodendron 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

trees,  do  admirably  for  street  planting,  and 
ought  to  be  better  known  and  much  more 
freely    used. 

I  have  seen  many  rare  orchids  brought 
thousands  of  miles  and  petted  into  a  curious 
bloom  —  indeed,  often  more  curious  than  beau- 
tiful. If  the  bloom  of  the  liriodendron,  in 
all  its  delicate  and  daring  mingling  of  green 
and  yellow,  cream  and  orange,  with  its  exqui- 
site interior  filaments,  could  be  labeled  as  a 
ten -thousand- dollar  orchid  beauty  from  Bor- 
neo, its  delicious  perfume  would  hardly  be 
needed  to  complete  the  raptures  with  which  it 
would  be  received  into  fashionable  flower  soci- 
ety. But  these  lovely  cups  stand  every  spring 
above  our  heads  by  millions,  their  fragrance 
and  form,  their  color  and  beauty,  unnoticed 
by  the  throng.  As  they  mature  into  the 
brown  fruit -cones  that  hold  the  seeds,  and 
these  in  turn  fall  to  the  ground,  to  fulfil  their 
purpose  of  reproduction,  there  is  no  week  in 
which  the  tree  is  not  worthy  of  attention; 
and,  when  the  last  golden  leaf  has  been 
plucked  by  the  fingers  of  the  winter's  frost, 
there    yet    remain    on     the     bare    branches    the 

,154 


THE    ELM   AND    THE    TULIP 

curious  and  interesting  candlestick -like  outer 
envelopes  of  the  fruit -cones,  to  remind  us  in 
form  of  the  wonderful  flower,  unique  in  its 
color  and  attractiveness,  that  gave  its  sweetness 
to    the   air   of    May  and   June. 

These  two  trees  —  the  elm  and  the  lirioden- 
dron — stand  out  strongly  as  individuals  in  the 
wealth  of  our  American  trees.  Let  all  who 
read  and  agree  in  my  estimate,  even  in  part, 
also  agree  to  try,  when  opportunity  ofifers, 
to  preserve  these  trees  from  vandalism  or 
neglect,  realizing  that  the  great  forest  trees 
of  our  country  are  impossible  of  replacement, 
and  that  their  strength,  majesty  and  beauty 
are    for   the    good    of    all. 


^S^ 


il^utJBeanng 
Crees 


iI5ut  J0eartng  %xtt& 

WHAT  memories  of  chestnutting  parties, 
of  fingers  stained  with  the  dye  of  wal- 
nut hulls,  and  of  joyous  tramps  afield 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  year,  come  to  many 
of  us  when  we  think  of  the  nuts  of  familiar 
knowledge!  Hickory -nuts  and  butternuts,  too, 
perhaps  hazelnuts  and  even  beechnuts  —  all 
these  American  boys  and  girls  of  the  real 
country  know.  In  the  far  South,  and,  indeed, 
reaching  well  up  into  the  Middle  West,  the 
pecan  holds  sway,  and  a  majestic  sway  at  that, 
for  its  size  makes  it  the  fellow  of  the  great 
trees  of  the  forest,  worthy  to  be  compared  with 
the  chestnut,  the  walnut,  and  the  hickory. 

But  it  has  usually  been  of  nuts  to  eat  that 
we  have  thought,  and  the  chance  for  palatable 
food  has,  just  as  with  some  of  the  best  of  the 
so-called  "fruit"  trees  —  all  trees  bear  fruit!  — 
partially  closed  our  eyes  to  the  interest  and 
beauty   of   some    of   these    nut -bearers. 

159 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

My  own  tree  acquaintance  has  proceeded 
none  too  rapidly,  and  I  have  been  —  and  am 
yet  —  as  fond  of  the  toothsome  nuts  as  any  one 
can  be  who  is  not  a  -devotee  of  the  new  fad 
that  attempts  to  make  human  squirrels  of  us 
all  by  a  nearly  exclusive  nut  diet.  I  think 
that  my  regard  for  a  nut  tree  as  something 
else  than  a  source  of  things  to  eat  began  when 
I  came,  one  hot  summer  day,  under  the  shade 
of  the  great  walnut  at  Paxtang.  Huge  was 
its  trunk  and  wide  the  spread  of  its  tranches, 
while  the  richness  of  its  foliage  held  at  bay 
the  strongest  rays  of  the  great  luminary.  How 
could  I  help  admiring  the  venerable  yet  lusty 
old  tree,  conferring  a  present  benefit,  giving 
an  instant  and  restful  impression  of  strength, 
solidity,  and  elegance,  while  promising  as  well, 
as  its  rounded  green  clusters  hung  far  above 
my  head,  a  great  crop  of  delicious  nut -fruit 
when  the  summer's  sun  it  was  so  fully  absorb- 
ing  should   have    done   its   perfect   work! 

Alas  for  the  great  black  walnut  of  Paxtang! 
It  went  the  way  of  many  another  tree  monarch 
whose  beauty  and  living  usefulness  were  no 
defense  against  sordid  vandalism.     In  the  course 

1 60 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 

of  time  a  suburb  was  laid  out,  including  along 
its  principal  street,  and  certainly  as  its  principal 
natural  ornament,  this  massive  tree,  around 
which  the  Indians  who  roamed  the  "great  vale 
of  Pennsylvania"  had  probably  gathered  in 
council.  The  sixty -foot  "lot,"  the  front  of 
which  the  tree  graced,  fell  to  the  ownership  of 
a  man  who,  erecting  a  house  under  its  benefi- 
cent protection,  soon  complained  of  its  shade. 
Then  came  a  lumber  prospector,  who  saw  only 
furniture  in  the  still  flourishing  old  black 
walnut.  His  offer  of  forty  dollars  for  the  tree 
was  eagerly  accepted  by  the  Philistine  who  had 
the  title  to  the  land,  and  although  there  were 
not  wanting  such  remonstrances  as  almost  came 
to  a  breaking  of  the  peace,  the  grand  walnut 
ended  its  hundreds  of  years  of  life  to  become 
mere  lumber  for  its  destroyers !  The  real 
estate  man  who  sold  the  land  greatly  admired 
the  tree  himself,  realizing  also  its  great  value 
to  the  suburb,  and  had  never  for  one  moment 
dreamed  that  the  potential  vandal  who  bought 
the  tree -graced  parcel  of  ground  would  not 
respect  the  inherent  rights  of  all  his  neighbors. 
He  told  me  of   the    loss   with   tears    in    his    eyes 

i6i 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 

and  rage  in  his  language ;  and  I  have  never 
looked  since  at  the  fellow  who  did  the  deed 
without  reprobation.  More  than  that,  he  has 
proven  a  theory  I  hold  —  that  no  really  good 
man  would  do  such  a  thing  after  he  had  been 
shown  the  wrong  of  it — by  showing  himself  as 
dishonest  in  business  as  he  was  disregardful  of 
the    rights    of   the    tree    and    of    his    neighbors. 

The  black  walnut  is  a  grand  tree  from  any 
point  of  view,  even  though  it  so  fully  absorbs 
all  water  and  fertility  as  to  check  other  growth 
under  its  great  reach  of  branches.  The  lines 
it  presents  to  the  winter  sky  are  as  rugged  as 
those  of  the  oak,  but  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence. And  this  ruggedness  is  held  far  into  the 
spring,  for  the  black  walnut  makes  no  slightest 
apparent  effort  at  growth  until  all  the  other 
trees  are  greening  the  countryside.  Then  with 
a  rush  come  the  luxuriant  and  tropical  com- 
pound leaves,  soon  attaining  their  full  dignity, 
and  adding  to  it  also  a  smooth  polish  on  the 
upper  surface.  The  walnut's  flowers  I  have 
missed  seeing,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  while  regis- 
tering a  mental  promise  not  to  permit  another 
season    to    pass   without    having   that    pleasure. 

163 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

Late  in  the  year  the  foliage  has  become 
scanty,  and  the  nut -clusters  hang  fascinatingly 
clear,  far  above  one's  head,  to  tempt  the  climb 
and  the  club.  The  black  walnut  is  a  tree  that 
needs  our  care  ;  for  furniture  fashion  long  used 
its  close-grained,  heavy,  handsome  wood  as 
cruelly  as  the  milliners  did  the  herons  of 
Florida  from  which  were  torn  the  "aigrets," 
now  happily  "out  of  style."  Though  walnut 
furniture  is  no  longer  the  most  popular,  the 
deadly  work  has  been  done,  for  the  most  part, 
and  but  few  of  these  wide -spread  old  forest 
monarchs  yet  remain.  Scientific  forestry  is  now 
providing,  in  many  plantings,  and  in  many 
places,  another  "crop"  of  walnut  timber, 
grown  to  order,  and  using  waste  land.  It  is 
to  such  really  beneficent,  though  entirely  com- 
mercial work,  that  we  must  look  for  the  future 
of   many    of   our   best   trees. 

The  butternut,  or  white  walnut,  has  never 
seemed  so  interesting  to  me,  nor  its  fruit  so 
palatable,  probably  because  I  have  seen  less  of 
it.  The  so-called  "English"  walnut,  which  is 
really  the  Persian  walnut,  is  not  hardy  in  the 
eastern    part   of    the    United    States,    and,   while 

164 


The    American  sweet  chestnut 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

a  tree  of  vast  commercial  importance  in  the 
far  West,  does  not  come  much  into  the  view 
of    a   lover    of    the    purely   American    trees. 

Of  the  American  sweet  chestnut  as  a  delight- 
ful nut- fruit  I  need  say  nothing  more  than 
that  it  fully  holds  its  place  against  "foreign 
intervention"  from  the  East;  even  though  these 
European  and  Japanese  chesnuts  with  their 
California -bred  progeny  give  us  fruit  that  is 
much  larger,  and  borne  on  trees  of  very 
graceful  habit.  No  one  with  discrimination 
will  for  a  moment  hesitate,  after  eating  a  nut 
of  both,  to  cheerfully  choose  the  American 
native  as  best  worth  his  commendation,  though 
he  may  come  to  understand  the  food  value, 
after  cooking,  of  the  chestnuts  used  so  freely 
in   parts  of   Europe. 

As  a  forest  tree,  however,  our  American 
sweet  chestnut  has  a  place  of  its  own.  Nat- 
urally spreading  in  habit  when  growing  where 
there  is  room  to  expand,  it  easily  accommo- 
dates itself  to  the  more  cramped  conditions  of 
our  great  woodlands,  and  shoots  upward  to 
light  and  air,  making  rapidly  a  clean  and 
sturdy  stem.     What  a   beautiful   and  stately  tree 

1 66 


Sweet    chestnut    blossoms 

it  is!  And  when,  late  in  the  spring,  or 
indeed  right  on  the  threshold  of  summer,  its 
blooming  time  comes,  it  stands  out  distinctly, 
having  then  few  rivals  in  the  eye  of  the  tree- 
lover.  The  locust  and  the  tulip  are  just  about 
done  with  their  floral  offering  upon  the  altar 
of  the  year  when  the  long  creamy  catkins  of 
the  sweet  chestnut  spring  out  from  the  fully 
perfected  dark  green  leaf -clusters.  Peculiarly 
graceful  are  these  great  bloom  heads,  high  in 
the  air,  and  standing  nearly  erect,  instead  of 
hanging  down  as  do  the  catkins  of  the  pop- 
lars and  the  birches.  The  odor  of  the  chest- 
nut flower  is  heavy,   and  is  best  appreciated  far 

167 


GETTING  JC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

above  in  the  great  tree,  where  it  may  mingle 
with  the  warm  air  of  June,  already  bearing  a 
hundred    sweet    scents. 

There  stands  bright  in  my  remembrance 
one  golden  June  day  when  I  came  through  a 
gateway  into  a  wonderful  American  garden 
of  purely  native  plants  maintained  near  Phila- 
delphia, the  rock- bound  drive  guarded  by  two 
clumps  of  tall  chestnuts,  one  on  either  side, 
and  both  in  full  glory  of  bloom.  There  could 
not  have  been  a  more  beautiful,  natural,  or 
dignified  entrance;  and  it  was  just  as  beautiful 
in  the  early  fall,  when  the  deep  green  of  the 
oblong -toothed  leaves  had  changed  to  clear 
and  glowing  yellow,  while  the  flowers  had  left 
their  perfect  work  in  the  swelling  and  prickly 
green  burs  which  hid  nuts  of  a  brown  as 
rich    as    the    flesh   was    sweet. 

Did  you,  gentle  reader,  ever  saunter  through 
a  chestnut  grove  in  the  later  fall,  when  the 
yellow  had  been  browned  by  the  frosts  which 
brought  to  the  ground  alike  leaves  and  remain- 
ing burs?  There  is  something  especially  pleas- 
ant in  the  warmth  of  color  and  the  crackle  of 
sound  on  the  forest  floor,  as  one   really  shuffles 

i68 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 

through  chestnut  leaves  in  the  bracing  Novem- 
ber air,  stooping  now  and  then  for  a  nut 
perchance  remaining  in  the  warm  and  velvety 
corner  of   an  opened    bur. 

Here  in  Pennsylvania,  and  south  of  Mason 
and  Dixon's  line,  there  grows  a  delightful 
small  tree,  brother  to  the  chestnut,  bearing 
especially  sweet  little  nuts  which  we  know  as 
chinquapins.  They  are  darker  brown,  and  the 
flesh  is  very  white,  and  rich  in  flavor.  I 
could  wish  that  the  chinquapin,  as  well  as  the 
chestnut,  was  included  among  the  trees  that 
enlightened  Americans  would  plant  along  road- 
sides and  lanes,  with  other  fruit  trees ;  the 
specific  secondary  purpose,  after  the  primary 
enjoyment  of  form,  foliage  and  flower,  being 
to  let  the  future  passer-by  eat  freely  of  that 
fruit  provided  by  the  Creator  for  food  and 
pleasure,  and  costing  no  more  trouble  or 
expense  than  the  purely  ornamental  trees  more 
frequently   planted. 

Both  chestnut  and  chinquapin  are  beautiful 
ornamental  trees;  and  some  of  the  newer 
chestnut  hybrids,  of  parentage  between  the 
American    and     the     European    species,    are     as 

169 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

graceful  as  the  most  highly  petted  lawn  trees 
of  the  nurserymen.  Indeed,  the  very  same 
claim  may  be  made  for  a  score  or  more  of 
the  standard  fruit  trees,  alike  beautiful  in  limb 
tracery,  in  bloom,  and  in  the  seed- coverings 
that    we    are    glad    to    eat ;     and    some    time    we 


The    chinquapin 
170 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 

shall  be  ashamed  not  to  plant  the  fruit  trees 
in  public  places,  for  the  pleasure  and  the 
refreshing   of   all   who    care. 

One  of  the  commonest  nut  trees,  and  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  most  pleasing,  is  the  hickory. 
There  are  hickories  and  hickories,  and  some 
are  shellbarks,  while  others  are  bitternuts  or 
pignuts.  The  form  most  familiar  to  the  East- 
ern States  is  the  shagbark  hickory,  and  its 
characteristic  upright  trees,  tall  and  finely 
shaped,  never  wide -spreading  as  is  the  chest- 
nut under  the  encouragement  of  plenty  of 
room  and  food,  are  admirable  from  any  stand- 
point. There  is  a  lusty  old  shagbark  in 
Wetzel's  Swamp  that  has  given  me  many  a 
pleasant  quarter -hour,  as  I  have  stood  at 
attention  before  its  symmetrical  stem,  hung 
with  slabs  of  brown  bark  that  seem  always 
just    ready    to    separate    from    the    trunk. 

The  aspect  of  this  tree  is  reflected  in  its 
;ery  useful  timber,  which  is  pliant  but  tough, 
requiring  less  ^^heft"  for  a  given  strength,  and 
bending  with  a  load  easily,  only  to  instantly 
snap  back  to  its  position  when  the  stress 
slackens.     Good    hickory  is    said    to    be   stronger 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

than  wrought  iron,  weight  for  weight;  and  I 
will  answer  for  it  that  no  structure  of  iron 
can  ever  have  half  the  grace,  as  well  as 
strength,  freely  displayed  by  this  same  old 
shagbark    of   the    lowlands    near   my   home. 

Curious  as  I  am  to  see  the  blooms  of  the 
trees  I  am  getting  acquainted  with,  there  are 
many  disappointments  to  be  endured  —  as  when 
the  favorite  tree  under  study  is  reached  a  day 
too  late,  and  I  must  wait  a  year  for  another 
opportunity.  It  was,  therefore,  with  much  joy 
that  I  found  that  a  trip  carefully  timed  for 
another  fine  old  hickory  along  the  Conodo- 
guinet — an  Indian -named  stream  of  angles, 
curves,  many  trees  and  much  beauty  —  had 
brought  me  to  the  quickly  passing  bloom 
feast  of  this  noble  American  tree.  The  leaves 
were  about  half -grown  and  half -colored,  which 
means  that  they  displayed  an  elegance  of  tex- 
ture and  hue  most  pleasing  to  see.  And  the 
flowers  —  there  they  were,  hanging  under  the 
twigs  in  long  clusters  of  what  I  might  describe 
as  ends  of  chenille,  if  it  were  not  irreverent  to 
compare  these  delicate  greenish  catkins  with 
anything   man-made! 

172 


A   shagbark    hickory   in   bloom 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

This  fine  shagbark  was  kind  to  the  camera- 
man, for  some  of  its  lower  branches  drooped 
and  hung  down  close  enough  to  the  "bars" 
of  the  rail  fence  to  permit  the  photographic 
eye  to  be  turned  on  them.  Then  came  the 
tantalizing  wait  for  stillness !  I  have  frequently 
found  that  a  wind,  absolutely  unnoticeable  be- 
fore, became  obtrusively  strong  just  when  the 
critical  moment  arrived,  and  I  have  fancied 
that  the  lightly  hung  leaflets  I  have  waited 
upon  fairly  shook  with  merriment  as  they 
received  the  gentle  zephyr,  imperceptible  to 
my  heated  brow,  but  vigorous  enough  to  keep 
them  moving.  Often,  too  —  indeed  nearly  always 
—  I  have  found  that  after  exhausting  my  all 
too  scanty  stock  of  patience,  and  making  an 
"exposure"  in  despair,  the  errant  blossoms 
and  leaflets  would  settle  down  into  perfect 
immobility,  as  if  to  say,  "There!  don't  be 
cross — we'll   behave,"   when    it   was    too    late. 

But  the  shagbark  at  last  was  good  to  me, 
and  I  could  leave  with  the  comfortable  feeling 
that  I  was  carrying  away  a  little  bit  of  nature's 
special  work,  a  memorandum  of  her  rather 
private  processes  of  fruit -making,  without  injur- 

174 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 

ing  any  part  of  the  inspected  trees.  It  has 
been  a  sorrow  to  me  that  I  have  not  seen 
that  great  hickory  later  in  the  year,  when  the 
clusters  of  tassels  have  become  bunches  of 
husk- covered  nuts.  To  get  really  acquainted 
with  any  tree,  it  should  be  visited  many  times 
in  a  year.  Starting  with  the  winter  view,  one 
observes  the  bark,  the  trend  and  character  of 
the  limbs,  the  condition  of  the  buds.  The 
spring  opening  of  growth  brings  rapid  changes, 
of  both  interest  and  beauty,  to  be  succeeded 
by  the  maturity  of  summer,  when,  with  the 
ripened  foliage  overhead,  everything  is  differ- 
ent. Again,  when  the  fruit  is  on,  and  the 
touch  of  Jack  Frost  is  baring  the  tree  for  the 
smoother  passing  of  the  winds  of  winter,  there 
is  another  aspect.  I  have  great  respect  for 
the  tree -lover  who  knows  unerringly  his  favo- 
rites at  any  time  of  the  year,  for  have  I  not 
myself  made  many  mistakes,  especially  when  no 
leaves  are  at  hand  as  pointers?  The  snow 
leaves  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  cunning 
framework  of  the  tree  —  tell  me,  then,  is  it 
ash,  or  elm,  or  beech?  Which  is  sugar- maple, 
and   which    red,    or   sycamore? 

175 


GETTING  JC^UJINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

One  summer  walk  in  the  deep  forest,  my 
friend  the  doctor,  who  knows  many  things 
besides  the  human  frame,  was  puzzled  at  a 
sturdy  tree  bole,  whose  leaves  far  overhead 
mingled  so  closely  with  the  neighboring  green- 
ery of  beech  and  birch  that  in  the  dim  light 
they  gave  no  help.  First  driving  the  small 
blade  of  his  pocket-knife  deep  into  the  rugged 
bark  of  the  tree  in  question,  he  withdrew 
it,  and  then  smelled  and  tasted,  exclaiming, 
"Ah,  I  thought  so;  it  is  the  wild  cherry!" 
And,  truly,  the  characteristic  prussic-acid  odor, 
the  bitter  taste,  belonging  to  the  peach  and 
cherry  families,  were  readily  noted  ;  and  another 
Sherlock   Holmes   tree    fact   came    to   me ! 

Of  other  hickories  I  know  little,  for  the 
false  shagbark,  the  mockernut,  the  pignut, 
and  the  rest  of  the  family  have  not  been  dis- 
closed to  me  often  enough  to  put  me  at  ease 
with  them.  There  are  to  be  more  tree  friends, 
both  human  and  arborescent,  and  more  walks 
with  the   doctor  and   the  camera,  I   hope ! 

We  of  the  cold  North,  as  we  crack  the 
toothsome  pecan,  hirdly  realize  its  kinship 
with    the    hickory.      It    is    full    brother    to    our 

176 


The    American   beech   in   winter 


GETTING   ACQUAINTED    WITH   THE    TREES 

shellbark,  which  is,  according  to  botany,  Hicoria 
ovata^  while  the  Southern  tree  is  Hicoria  pecan. 
A  superb  tree  it  is,  too,  reaching  up  amid  its 
vigorous  associates  of  the  forests  of  Georgia, 
Alabama  and  Texas  to  a  height  exceeding  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Its  upright  and  ele- 
gant form,  of  a  grace  that  conceals  its  great 
height,  its  remarkable  usefulness,  and  its  rather 
rapid  growth,  commend  it  highly.  The  nut- 
clusters  are  striking,  having  not  only  an  inter- 
esting outline,  but  much  richness  of  color,  in 
greens    and    russets. 

It  may  seem  odd  to  include  the  beech 
under  the  nut -bearing  trees,  to  those  of  us 
who  know  only  the  nursery- grown  forms  of 
the  European  beech,  "weeping"  and  twisted, 
with  leaves  of  copper  and  blood,  as  seen  in 
parks  and  pleasure-grounds.  But  the  squirrels 
would  agree ;  they  know  well  the  sweet  little 
triangular    nuts    that  ripen    early  in    fall. 

The  pure  American  beech,  uncontaminated 
and  untwisted  with  the  abnormal  forms  just 
mentioned,  is  a  tree  that  keeps  itself  well  in 
the  eye  of  the  woods  rambler;  and  that  eye  is 
always  pleasured  by  it,  also.    Late  in  winter,  the 

178 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 


The    true    nut-eater 


light  gray  branches  of  a  beech 
thicket  on  a  dry  hillside  on  the 
edge  of  my  home  city  called  at- 
tention to  their  clean  elegance 
amid  sordid  and  forbidding  sur- 
roundings, and  it  was  with  anger 
which  I  dare  call  righteous  that 
I  saw  a  hideous  bill-board  erected 
along  the  hillside,  to  shut  out  the 
always  beautiful  beeches  from 
sight  as  I  frequently  passed  on 
a  trolley  car !  I  have  carefully 
avoided  buying  anything  of  the 
merchants  who  have  thus  set  up 
their  announcements  where  they 
are  an  insult;  and  it  might  be 
noted  that  these  and  other  offen- 
sive bill-boards  are  to  others  of 
like  mind  a  sort  of  reverse  ad- 
vertising—  they  tell  us  what  not 
to    purchase. 

Years  ago  I  chanced  to  be  pres- 
ent at  a  birth  of  beech  leaves,  up 
along  Paxton  Creek.    It  was  late 
in  the   afternoon,  and  our  reluc- 
179 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE   TREES 

tant  feet  were  turning  homeward,  after  the  cam- 
era had  seen  the  windings  of  the  creek  against 
the  softening  light,  when  the  beeches  over- 
arching the  Httle  stream  showed  us  this  spring 
marvel.  The  little  but  perfectly  formed  leaves 
had  just  opened,  in  pairs,  with  a  wonderful 
covering  of  silvery  green,  as  they  hung  down- 
ward toward  the  water,  yet  too  weak  to  stand 
out  and  up  to  the  passing  breeze.  The  exqui- 
site delicacy  of  these  trembling  little  leaves,  the 
arching  elegance  of  the  branches  that  had  just 
opened  them  to  the  light,  made  it  seem  almost 
sacrilegious    to    turn   the    lens    upon    them. 

Often  since  have  I  visited  the  same  spot,  in 
hope  to  see  again  this  awakening,  but  without 
avail.  The  leaves  show  me  their  silky  com- 
pleteness, rustling  above  the  stream  in  softest 
tree  talk;  the  curious  staminate  flower -clusters 
hang  like  bunches  of  inverted  commas ;  the 
neat  little  burs,  with  their  inoffensive  prickles, 
mature  and  discharge  the  angular  nuts  —  but  I 
am  not  again,  I  fear,  to  be  present  at  the 
hour    of    the    leaf -birth     of     the    beech's     year. 

The  beech,  by  the  way,  is  tenacious  of  its 
handsome   foliage.     Long   after   most   trees   have 

1 80 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 


yielded  their  leaves  to  the 
frost,  the  beech  keeps  its 
clothing,  turning  from  the 
clear  yellow  of  fall  to  light- 
est fawn,  and  hanging  out 
in  the  forest  a  sign  of 
whiteness  that  is  cheering 
in  the  winter  and  earliest 
spring.  These  bleached - 
out  leaves  will  often  re- 
main until  fairly  pushed  oft 
by  the  opening  buds  of 
another   year. 

Of  the  hazelnut  or  fil- 
bert, I  know  nothing  from 
the  tree  side,  but  I  cannot 
avoid  mentioning  another 
botanically  unrelated  so- 
called  hazel  —  the  witch- 
hazel.  This  small  tree  is 
known  to  most  of  us  only 
as  giving  name  to  a  cer- 
tain soothing  extract.  It 
is  worthy  of  more  atten- 
tion,   for    its    curious    and 

i8i 


The   witch-hazel 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

delicately  sweet  yellow  flowers,  seemingly  clus- 
ters of  lemon -colored  threads,  are  the  very  last 
to  bloom,  opening  bravely  in  the  very  teeth  of 
Jack  Frost.  They  are  a  delight  to  find,  on  the 
late  fall  rambles ;  and  the  next  season  they  are 
followed  by  the  still  more  curious  fruits,  which 
have  a  habit  of  suddenly  opening  and  fairly 
ejaculating  their  seeds.  A  plucked  branch  of 
these  fruits,  kept  in  a  warm  place  a  few  hours, 
will  show  this  —  another  of  nature's  efficient 
methods  for  spreading  seeds,  in  full  operation  — 
if  one  watches  closely  enough.  The  flowers  and 
the  fruits  'are  on  the  tree  at  the  same  time,  just 
as   with    the    orange   of  the   tropics. 

Speaking  of  a  tropical  fruit,  I  am  reminded 
that  the  greatest  nut  of  all,  though  certainly 
not  an  American  native,  is  nevertheless  now 
grown  on  American  soil.  Some  years  ago  a 
grove  of  lofty  cocoanut  palms  in  Yucatan  fas- 
cinated me,  and  the  opportunity  to  drink  the 
clear  and  refreshing  milk  (not  milky  at  all, 
and  utterly  different  from  the  familiar  contents 
of  the  ripened  nut  of  commerce)  was  gladly 
taken.  Now  the  bearing  trees-  are  within  the 
bounds    of    the    United    States    proper,    and    the 

182 


NUT-BEARING    TREES 

grand  trees  in  Southern  Florida  give  plenty 
of  fruit.  The  African  citizens  of  that  neigh- 
borhood are  well  aware  of  the  refreshing  char- 
acter of  the  "juice"  of  the  green  cocoanut, 
and  a  friend  who  sees  things  for  me  with  a 
camera  tells  with  glee  how  a  "darky"  at 
Palm  Beach  left  him  in  his  wheel -chair  to 
run  with  simian  feet  up  a  sloping  trunk,  there 
to  pull,  break  open,  and  absorb  the  contents 
of  a  nut,  quite  as  a  matter  of  course.  I  have 
myself  seen  the  Africans  of  the  Bahamas  in 
the  West  Indies  climbing  the  glorious  cocoa 
palms  of  the  coral  keys,  throwing  down  the 
mature  nuts,  and  then,  with  strong  teeth, 
stripping  the  tough  outer  covering  to  get  at 
the    refreshing    interior. 

All  these  nut  trees  are  only  members  of 
the  great  family  of  trees  given  by  God  for 
man's  good,  I  firmly  believe;  for  man  first 
comes  into  Biblical  view  in  a  garden  of  trees, 
and  the  city  and  the  plain  are  but  penances 
for  sin ! 


183 


^ome  €)tl)er 
Crees 


^ome  £Dtl)er  %xtt& 

IN  preceding  chapters  of  this  series  I  have 
treated  of  trees  in  a  relationship  of  family, 
or  according  to  some  noted  similarity. 
There  are,  however,  some  trees  of  my  acquain- 
tance of  which  the  family  connections  are 
remote  or  unimportant,  and  there  are  some 
other  trees  of  individual  merit  with  the  fam- 
ilies of  which  I  am  not  sufficiently  well  ac- 
quainted to  speak  familiarly  as  a  whole.  Yet 
many  of  these  trees,  looked  at  by  themselves, 
are  as  beautiful,  interesting,  and  altogether 
worthy  as  any  of  which  I  have  written,  and 
they  are  also  among  the  familiar  trees  of 
America.  Therefore  I  present  a  few  of  them 
apart  from    the    class   treatment. 

One  day  in  very  early  spring  —  or  was  it 
very  late  in  winter?  —  I  walked  along  the  old 
canal  road,  looking  for  some  evidence  in  tree 
growth    that    spring   was    really   at    hand.     Buds 

187 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

were  swelling,  and  here  and  there  a  brave 
robin  could  be  heard  telling  about  it  in  song 
to  his  mate  ( I  think  that  settled  the  season  as 
earliest  spring ! ) ;  but  beyond  the  bud  evidences 
the  trees  seemed  to  be  silent  on  the  subject. 
Various  herbs  showed  lusty  beginnings,  and  the 
skunk-cabbage,  of  course,  had  pushed  up  its 
tropical  richness  in  defiance  of  any  late  frost, 
pointing  the  way  to  its  peculiar  red -purple 
flowers,  long  since  fertilized  and  turning  toward 
maturity. 

The  search  seemed  vain,  until  a  glint  of 
yellow  just  ahead,  too  deep  to  proceed  from 
the  spice -bush  I  was  expecting  to  find,  drew 
me  to  the  very  edge  of  the  water,  there  to 
see  hanging  over  and  reflected  in  the  stream 
a  mass  of  golden  catkins.  Looking  closely, 
and  touching  the  little  tree,  I  disengaged  a 
cloud  of  pollen  and  a  score  of  courageous 
bees,  evidently  much  more  pleased  with  the 
sweet  birch  than  with  the  near-by  skunk- 
cabbage  flowers.  Sweet  birch  it  was;  the  stifT 
catkins,  that  had  all  winter  held  themselves  in 
readiness,  had  just  burst  into  bloom  with  the 
sun's  first  warmth,  introducing  a  glint  of  bright 

i88 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

color  into  the  landscape,  and  starting  the  active 
double  work  of  the  bees,  in  fertilizing  flowers 
while  gathering  honey,  that  was  not  to  be  in- 
termitted for  a  single  sunshine  hour  all  through 
the    season. 

A  little  later,  along  the  great  Susquehanna, 
I  found  in  full  bloom  other  trees  of  this  same 
birch,  beloved  of  boys  —  and  of  girls  —  for  its 
aromatic  bark.  Certainly  picturesque  and  bright, 
the  little  trees  were  a  delight  to  the  winter- 
wearied  eye,  the  mahogany  twigs  and  the 
golden  catkins,  held  at  poise  over  the  water, 
being   full    of    spring    suggestion. 

All  of  the  birches  —  I  wish  I  knew  them 
better!  —  are  good  to  look  at,  and  I  think  the 
bees,  the  woodpeckers,  the  humming-birds  and 
other  wood  folk  must  find  some  of  them 
good  otherwise.  At  Eagles  Mere  there  was 
a  yellow  birch  in  the  bark  of  which  scores 
of  holes  had  been  drilled  by  the  woodpeckers 
or  the  bees,  at  regularly  spaced  intervals,  to 
let  the  forest  life  drink  at  will  of  the  sweet 
sap.  I  remember  also  that  my  attempt  to 
photograph  a  score  of  bees,  two  large  brown 
butterflies      and      one      humming-bird,     all      in 

189 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

attendance  upon  this  birch  feast,  was  a  sur- 
prising failure.  I  secured  a  picture  of  the 
holes  in  the  bark,  to  be  sure,  but  the  rapidly 
moving  insect  and  bird  life  was  too  quick  for 
an  exposure  of  even  a  fraction  of  a  second, 
and  my  negative  was  lifeless.  These  same  yel- 
low birches,  picturesque  in  form,  ragged  in 
light -colored  bark,  give  a  brightness  all  their 
own  to  the  deep  forest,  mostly  of  trees  with 
rather    somber    bark. 

A  woodsman  told  me  one  summer  of  the 
use  of  old  birch  bark  for  starting  a  fire  in 
the  wet  woods,  and  I  have  since  enjoyed 
collecting  the  bark  from  fallen  trees  in  the 
forest.  It  strips  easily,  in  large  pieces,  from 
decayed  stems,  and  when  thrown  on  an  open 
fire,  produces  a  cheery  and  beautiful  blaze, 
as  well  as  much  heat;  while,  if  cunningly 
handled,  by  its  aid  a  fire  can  be  kindled  even 
in  a  heavy   rain. 

The  great  North  Woods  show  us  won- 
derful birches.  Paddling  through  one  of  the 
Spectacle  ponds,  along  the  Racquette  river,  one 
early  spring  day,  I  came  upon  a  combination 
of   white    pine,    red    pine,    and    paper-birch    that 

190 


Sweet    birch    in    early    spring 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

was  simply  dazzling  in  effect.  This  birch  has 
bark,  as  every  one  knows,  of  a  shining  creamy 
white.  Not  only  its  color,  but  its  tenacity, 
resistance  to  decay,  and  wonderful  divisibility, 
make  this  bark  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of 
nature's  fabrics.  To  the  Indian  and  the  trap- 
per it  has  long  been  as  indispensable  as  is 
the    palm    to    the    native    of   the    tropics. 

There  are  other  good  native  birches,  and 
one  foreigner  —  the  true  white  birch — whose 
cut -leaved  form,  a  familiar  lawn  tree  of  droop 
ing  habit,  is  worth  watching  and  liking.  The 
name  some  of  the  nurserymen  have  given  it, 
of  "nine -bark,"  is  significantly  accurate,  for  at 
least  nine  layers  may  be  peeled  from  the 
glossy  whiteness    of    the    bark   of    a  mature   tree. 

I  intend  to  know  more  of  the  birches,  and 
to  see  how  the  two  kinds  of  flowers  act  to 
produce  the  little  fruits,  which  are  nuts,  though 
they  hardly  look  so.  And  I  would  urge  my 
tree -loving  friends  to  plant  about  their  homes 
these    cheery    and    most    elegantly   garbed    trees. 

The  spice -bush,  of  which  I  spoke  above, 
is  really  a  large  shrub,  and  is  especially  notable 
for  two    things  —  the    way    it    begins    the    spring, 

193 


GETTING  JC^AINTED    WITH    tHE    tREES 


and  the  way  it  ends  the  fall.  About  my  home, 
it  is  the  first  of  wild  woods  trees  to  bloom, 
except  perhaps  the  silver  maple,  which 
has  a  way  of  getting  through  with  its 
flowers  unnoticed  before  spring  is  thought 
of.  One  finds  the  delicate  little 
bright  yellow  flowers  of  the  spice- 
bush  clustered  thickly  along  the 
twigs  long  before  the  leaves  are 
ready  to  brave  the  chill  air.  Af- 
ter the  leaves  have  fallen  in  the 
autumn,  these  flowers  stand  out  in 
a  reincarnation  of  scarlet  and  spicy 
berries,  which  masquerade  continually 
as  holly  berries  when  cunningly  in- 
troduced amid  the  foliage  of  the 
latter.  Between  spring  and  fall  the 
spice -bush    is    apparently   invisible. 

How  many  of  us,  perfectly  famil- 
iar with  "the  holly  berry's  glow" 
about  Christmas  time,  have  ever  seen 
a  whole  tree  of  holly,  set  with  berries? 
Yet  the  trees,  sometimes  fifty  feet 
high,  of  American  holly  —  and  this  is 
spice-bush    very  different   from    the    English   holly 

194 


Flowers  of  the 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 


in  leaf  —  grow  all  along  the  Atlantic  sea-board, 
from  Maine  to  Florida,  and  are  especially 
plenty  south  of  Maryland  and  Delaware.  There 
is  one  superb  specimen  in  Trenton,  New 
Jersey's  capital,  which  is  of 
the  typical  form,  and  when 
crowded  with  scarlet  berries 
it  is  an  object  of  great 
beauty.  One  reason  why 
many  of  us  have  not  seen 
holly  growing  in  the  wild 
is  that  it  seems  to  prefer 
the  roughest  and  most  inac- 
cessible locations.  Years  ago 
I  was  told  that  I  might 
see  plenty  of  holly  growing 
freely  in  the  Pennsylvania 
county  of  my  home.  "But," 
my  informant  added,  "you  wi 
need  to  wear  heavy  leather 
trousers  to  get  to  it ! "  The 
nurserymen  are  removing  this  difficulty  by 
growing  plants  of  all  the  hollies  —  American, 
Japanese,  English  and  Himalayan  —  so  that  they 
may   easily   be    set   in    the    home    grounds,    with 

195 


Leaves  and 
berries  of  the 
American  holly 


American   holly  tree    at  Trenton,   N.  J. 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

their  handsome  evergreen  foliage  and  their 
berries    of    red    or   black. 

One  spring,  the  season  and  my  opportunities 
combined  to  provide  a  most  pleasing  feast  of 
color  in  the  tree  quest.  It  was  afforded  by  the 
juxtaposition  at  Conewago  of  the  bloom -time 
of  the  deep  pink  red -bud,  miscalled  ^^Judas 
tree,"  and  the  large  white  dogwood, —  both  set 
against  the  deep,  almost  black  green  of  the 
American  cedar,  or  juniper.  These  two  small 
trees,  the  red -bud  and  the  dogwood,  are  of 
the  class  of  admirable  American  natives  that 
are  notable  rather  for  beauty  and  brightness  of 
bloom    than    for    tree    form    or    size. 

The  common  dogwood — Cornus  florida  of  the 
botany — appears  in  bloom  insidiously,  one  might 
say;  for  the  so-called  flowers  open  slowly, 
and  they  are  green  in  color,  and  easily  mis- 
taken for  leaves,  after  they  have  attained  con- 
siderable size.  Gradually  the  green  pales  to 
purest  white,  and  the  four  broad  bracts,  with 
the  peculiar  little  pucker  at  the  end  of  each, 
swell  out  from  the  real  flowers,  which  look  like 
stamens,  to  a  diameter  of  often  four  inches. 
With    these    flowers     clustered     thickly    on     the 

197 


GETTING    AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

usually  flat,  straight  branches,  the  effect  against 
the  green  or  brown  of  near-by  trees  is  start- 
ling. The  dogwood's  horizontal  branching  habit 
makes  every  scrap  of  its  lovely  white  blooms 
effective  to  the  beholder  on  the  ground  below, 
but  far  more  striking  if  one  may  see  it  from 
above,    as    looking    down    a    hillside. 

Though  the  dogwood  blooms  before  its 
leaves  are  put  forth,  the  foliage  sometimes 
catches  up  with  the  flowers ;  and  this  foliage  is 
itself  a  pleasure,  because  of  its  fineness  and 
its  regular  venation,  or  marking  with  ribs.  In 
the  fall,  when  the  flowers  of  purest  white  have 
been  succeeded  by  oblong  berries  of  brightest 
scarlet,  the  foliage  remains  awhile  to  contrast 
with  the  brilliance  of  the  fruit.  The  frosts 
soon  drop  the  leaves,  and  then  the  berries 
stand  out  in  all  their  attractiveness,  offering 
food  to  every  passing  bird,  and  thus  carrying 
out  another  of  nature's  cunning  provisions  for 
the  reproduction  of  the  species.  Seeds  in  the 
crops  of  birds  travel  free  and  far,  and  some 
fall    on    good    ground ! 

Is  it  not  sad  to  know  that  the  brave,  bold 
dogwood,    holding    out   its    spring    flag    of    truce 

198 


GETTING  JC^UJINTED    PFITH    THE    TREES 

from  arduous  weather,  and  its  autumn  store  of 
sustenance  for  our  feathered  friends,  is  in  dan- 
ger of  extinction  from  the  forest  because  its 
hardy,  smooth,  even -grained  white  wood  has 
been  found  to  be  especially  available  in  the 
"arts"?  I  feel  like  begging  for  the  life  of 
every  dogwood,  as  too  beautiful  to  be  destroyed 
for   any  mere    utility. 

I  have  been  wondering  as  to  the  reason 
for  the  naming  of  the  cornuses  as  dogwoods, 
and  find  in  Bailey's  great  Cyclopedia  of  Hor- 
ticulture the  definite  statement  that  the  name 
was  attached  to  an  English  red -branched  spe- 
cies because  a  decoction  of  the  bark  was  used 
to  wash  mangy  dogs !  This  is  but  another 
illustration  of  the  inadequacy  and  inappropriate- 
ness    of    "common"    names. 

There  are  many  good  dogwoods  —  the  Cor- 
nus  family  is  admirable,  both  in  its  American 
and  its  foreign  members  —  but  I  must  not  be- 
come encyclopedic  in  these  sketches  of  just  a 
few  tree  favorites.  I  will  venture  to  mention 
one  shrub  dogwood  —  I  never  heard  its  common 
name,  but  it  has  three  botanical  names  {Cornus 
sericea,    or   ccerulea,    or   Amomum^    the    latter   pre- 

200 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 


ferred)  to  make  up  for 
the  lack.  It  ought  to 
be  called  the  blue -ber- 
ried dogwood,  by  rea- 
son of  its  extremely 
beautiful  fruit,  which 
formed  a  singular  and 
delightful  contrast  to 
the  profusion  of  red 
and  scarlet  fruits  so 
much  in  evidence,  one 
September  day,  in  Bos- 
ton's berry -full  Frank- 
lin  Park. 

The  red -bud,  as  I 
have  said,  is  miscalled 
Judas-tree,  the  tradi- 
tion being  that  it  was 
on  a  tree  of  this  fam- 
ily, but  not  of  the 
American  branch,  hap- 
pily and  obviously,  that 
the  faithless  disciple 
hanged  himself  after 
his  final  interview  with 


The   red-bud   in  bloom 


201 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

the  priests  who  had  played  upon  his  cupidity. 
Indeed,  tradition  is  able  to  tell  even  now 
marvelous  stories  to  travelers,  and  not  long 
ago  I  was  more  amused  than  edified  to  hear 
an  eloquent  clergyman  just  returned  from 
abroad  tell  how  he  had  been  shown  the  fruits 
of  the  Judas-tree,  "in  form  like  beautiful  apples, 
fair  to  the  eye,  but  within  bitter  and  disap- 
pointing;" and  he  moralized  just  as  vigorously 
on  this  fable  as  if  it  had  been  true,  as  he 
thought  it.  He  didn't  particularly  relish  the 
suggestion  that  the  pulpit  ought  to  be  fairly 
certain  of  its  facts,  whether  of  theology  or  of 
science,  in  these  days;  but  he  succumbed  to 
the  submission  of  authority  for  the  statement 
that  the  Eastern  so-called  Judas-tree,  Cercis 
siliquastrum^  bore  a  small  pod,  like  a  bean,  and 
was  not  unpleasant,  any  more  than  the  pod 
was    attractive. 

I  mention  this  only  in  reprobation  of  the 
unpleasant  name  that  really  hurts  the  estimation 
of  one  of  the  most  desirable  and  beautiful  of 
America's  smaller  trees.  The  American  red- 
bud  is  a  joy  in  the  spring  about  dogwood 
time,  for  it  is  all  bloom,  and  of   a  most   striking 

202 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

color.  Deep  pink,  or  purplish  light  red,  or 
clear  bright  magenta  —  all  these  color  names 
fit  it  approximately  only.  One  is  conscious  of 
a  warm  glow  in  looking  toward  the  little 
trees,  with  every  branch  clear  down  to  the 
main  stem  not  only  outlined  but  covered  with 
richest    color. 

There  is  among  the  accompanying  illustra- 
tions (page  201)  a  photograph  of  a  small  but 
characteristic  red -bud  in  bloom,  looking  at 
which  reminds  me  of  one  of  the  pleasantest 
experiences  of  my  outdoor  life.  With  a  camer- 
istic  associate,  I  was  in  a  favorite  haunt,  seeing 
dogwoods  and  red -buds  and  other  things  of 
spring  beauty,  when  a  sudden  warm  thunder 
shower  overtook  us.  Somewhat  protected  in  our 
carriage  —  and  it  would  have  been  more  fun  if 
we  had  stood  out  to  take  the  rain  as  comfor- 
tably as  did  the  horse  — we  saw  the  wonder  of 
the  reception  of  a  spring  shower  by  the  exube- 
rant plant  life  we  were  there  to  enjoy.  When 
the  clouds  suddenly  obscured  the  sky,  and  the 
first  drops  began  to  fall,  the  soft  new  umbrellas 
of  the  May-apples,  raised  to  shield  the  delicate 
white    flowers    hidden   under   them   from  the  too 

203 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

ardent  sunshine,  reversed  the  usual  method  by 
closing  tightly  and  smoothly  over  the  blooms, 
thus  protecting  perfectly  their  pollen  hearts,  and 
offering  little  resistance  to  the  sharp  wind  that 
brought  the  rain.  At  our  very  feet  we  could 
see  the  open  petals  of  the  spring  beauty  coil 
up  into  tight  little  spirals,  the  young  leaves  on 
the  pin -oaks  draw  in  toward  the  stems  from 
which  they  had  been  expanding.  Over  the  low 
fence,  the  blue  phlox,  that  dainty  carpeting  of 
the  May  woods,  shut  its  starry  flowers,  and  lay 
close  to  the  ground.  Quiet  as  we  were,  we 
could  see  the  birds  find  sheltered  nooks  in  the 
trees   about  us. 

But  soon  the  rain  ceased,  the  clouds  passed 
away,  and  the  sun  shone  again,  giving  us  a 
rainbow  promise  on  the  passing  drops.  Every- 
thing woke  up  !  The  birds  were  first  to  rejoice, 
and  a  veritable  oratorio  of  praise  and  joyfulness 
sounded  about  our  ears.  The  leaves  quickly 
expanded,  fresher  than  ever;  the  flowers  un- 
curled and  unfolded,  the  May-apple  umbrellas 
raised  again ;  and  all  seemed  singing  a  song 
as  joyous  as  that  of  the  birds,  though  audible 
only   to    the    nerves    of    eye    and    brain    of   the 

204 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

human  beings  who  had  thus  witnessed  another 
of   nature's    interior   entertainments. 

How  much  we  miss  by  reason  of  fear  of 
a  Httle  wetting!  Many  of  the  finest  pictures 
painted  by  the  Master  of  all  art  are  visible 
only  in  rain  and  in  mist;  and  the  subtlest 
coloring  of  tree  leaf  and  tree  stem  is  that 
seen  only  when  the  dust  is  all  washed  away 
by  the  shower  that  should  have  no  terrors  for 
those  who  care  for  the  truths  of  nature.  In 
these  days  of  rain- proof  clothing,  seeing  out- 
doors in  the  rain  is  not  even  attended  by  the 
slightest  discomfort,  and  I  have  found  my 
camera   quite    able    to    stand    a   shower! 

Another  of  the  early  spring- flowering  small 
trees  —  indeed,  the  earliest  one  that  blooms  in 
white  —  is  the  shad -bush,  or  service  -  berry. 
Again  the  "common"  names  are  trifling  and 
inadequate;  shad  -  bush  because  the  flowers 
come  when  the  shad  are  ascending  the  rivers 
along  which  the  trees  grow,  and  service -berry 
because  the  pleasant  fruits  are  of  service,  per- 
haps! June -berry,  another  name,  is  better;  but 
the  genus  owns  the  mellifluous  name  of  Amel- 
anchier,    and    the    term    Canadensis    belongs    to 

205 


.-..-*='* 

X.-. 

^-  i-t,ir^ 

...  '^ 

k 

..  "-'^^ 

%^  ^€5'^ 

^N. 

w%  % 

Blooms    of    the    shad-bush 

the  species  with  the  clouds  of  Httle  white 
flowers  shaped  Hke  a  thin-petaled  star.  The 
shad -bush  blooms  with  the  trilliums  —  but  I 
may  not  allow  the  spring  flowers  to  set  me 
spinning   on    another   hank ! 

Searching  for  early  recollections  of  trees,  I 
remember,  when  a  boy  of  six  or  seven,  find- 
ing some  little  green  berries  or  fruits,  each 
with  its  long  stem,  on  the  pavement  under 
some  great  trees  in  the  Capitol  Park  of  my 
home  town.  I  could  eat  these;  and  thus  they 
pleased  the  boy  as  much  as  the  honey -sweet 
flowers  that  gave  rise  to  them  now  please  the 
man.  The  noble  American  linden,  one  of  the 
really  great  trees  of  our  forests,  bears  these 
delicate    whitish    flowers,    held    in    rich    clusters 

206 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

from  a  single  stem  which  is  attached  for  part 
of  its  length  to  a  curious  long  green  bract.  If 
these  flowers  came  naked  on  the  tree,  as  do 
those  of  the  Norway  maple,  for  instance,  they 
would  be  easily  seen  and  admired  of  men,  but 
being  withheld  until  the  splendid  heart-shaped 
foliage  is  well  out,  the  blooms  miss  the  casual 
eye.  But  the  bees  see  them;  they  know  the 
linden  for  their  own,  and  great  stores  of 
sweetest  honey  follow  a  year  when  abundant 
pasture    of   these    flowers    is    available. 

A  kindly  tree  is  this  linden,  or  lime,  or 
basswood,  to  give  it  all  its  common  names. 
Kindly  as  well  as  stately,  but  never  rugged  as 
the  oak,  or  of  obvious  pliant  strength  as  the 
hickory.     The    old    tree    invites    to    shade    under 


Flowers    of    the    American    linden 
207 


GETTING  ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

its  limbs  crowded  with  broad  leaves ;  the 
young  tree  is  lusty  of  growth  and  clean  of 
bark,  a  model  of  rounded  beauty  and  a  fine 
variant  from  the  overworked  maples  of  our 
streets. 

Again,  the  tale  of  woe !  for  the  great  lin- 
dens of  our  forests  are  nearly  all  gone.  Too 
useful  for  timber;  too  easy  to  fell;  its  soft, 
smooth,  even  wood  too  adaptable  to  many 
uses!  Cut  them  all;  strip  the  bark  for  "bast," 
or  tying  material  ;  America  is  widening  ;  the 
sawmills  cannot  be  idle ;  scientific  and  decent 
forestry,  so  successful  and  so  usual  in  Europe, 
is  yet  but  a  dream  for  future  generations  here 
in    America ! 

But  other  lindens,  those  of  Europe  espe- 
cially, are  loved  of  the  landscape  architect  and 
the  Germans.  "Unter  den  Linden,"  Berlin's 
famous  street,  owes  its  name,  fame  and  shade 
to  the  handsome  European  species,  the  white- 
lined  leaves  of  which  turn  up  in  the  faintest 
breeze,  to  show  silvery  against  the  deep  green 
of  their  upper  surfaces.  Very  many  of  these 
fine  lindens  are  being  planted  now  in  America 
by    landscape     architects,    and    there    are     some 

208 


The  American   linden 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    fHE   TREES 

lindens  on  Long  Island  just  as  prim  and  trim 
as  any  in  Berlin.  Indeed,  there  is  a  sort  of 
German  '^offiziere"  waxed -mustache  air  of  supe- 
riority   about    them,    anyway! 

There  is  an  all -pervading  Middle  States 
tree  that  I  might  give  a  common  name  to  as 
the  "fence -post  tree,"  because  it  is  so  often 
grown  for  that  use  only,  by  reason  of  its 
enduring  timber  and  its  exceeding  vigor  under 
hard  usage.  Yet  the  common  black  locust  is 
one  of  the  most  distinct  and  pleasing  American 
trees  of  moderate  height.  Distinct  it  is  in  its 
framework  in  winter,  mayhap  with  the  twisted 
pods  of  last  season's  fruits  hanging  free ;  dis- 
tinct again  in  its  long -delayed  late -coming 
acacia -like  foliage;  but  fragrant,  elegant  and 
beautiful,  as  well  as  distinct,  when  in  June  it 
sets  forth  its  long,  drooping  racemes  of  whitest 
and  sw^eetest  flowers.  These  come  only  when 
warm  weather  is  an  assured  fact,  and  the  wise 
Pennsylvania  Germans  feel  justified  in  awaiting 
the  blooming  of  the  locust  before  finally  dis- 
carding   their    winter    underclothing! 

For  years  a  family  of  my  knowledge  has 
held    it    necessary,    for    its    proper    conduct,    to 

2IO 


Flowers   of   the    black    locust 


have  in  order  certain  floral  drives.  First  the 
apple  blossom  drive  introduces  the  spring,  and 
the  lilac  drive  confirms  the  impression  that 
really  the  season  is  advancing;  but  the  locust 
drive  is  the  sweetest  of  all,  taking  these  nature 
lovers  along  some  shady  lanes,  beside  the  east 
bank  of  a  great  river,  and  in  places  where, 
the  trees  planted  only  for  the  fence  utility  of 
the  hard  yellow  wood,  these  fragrant  flowers, 
hanging  in  grace  and  elegance  far  above  the 
highway,  have  redeemed  surroundings  other- 
wise   sordid    and    mean. 

I    want    Americans    to    prize    the     American 
locust    for    its    real    beauty.     The    French    know 

211 


m.M 


HfiPB*-"'^ 


c 


Young  trees   of  the   black   locust 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

it,  and  show  with  pride  their  trifling  imported 
specimens.  We  cannot  exterminate  the  trees, 
and  there  will  be  plenty  for  posts,  too ;  but 
let  us  realize  its  sweetness  and  elegance,  as 
well    as    the    durability   of    its    structure. 

There  are  fashions  in  trees,  if  you  please, 
and  the  nurserymen  set  them.  Suddenly  they 
discover  the  merits  of  some  long- forgotten  tree^ 
and  it  jumps  into  prominence.  Thus,  only  a 
few  years  ago,  the  pin -oak  came  into  vogue, 
to  the  lasting  benefit  of  some  parks,  avenues 
and  home  grounds.  Then  followed  the  syca- 
more, but  it  had  to  be  the  European  variety, 
for  our  own  native  "plane  tree,"  or  "button- 
ball,"  is  too  plentiful  and  easy  to  sing  much  of 
a  tree -seller's  song  about.  This  Oriental  plane 
is  a  fine  tree,  however,  and  the  avenue  in 
Fairmount  Park  that  one  may  see  from  trains 
passing  over  the  Schuylkill  river  is  admirable. 
The  bark  is  mottled  in  green,  and  especially 
bright  when  wet  with  rain.  As  the  species  is 
free  from  the  attacks  of  a  nasty  European 
"bug,"  or  fungus,  which  is  bothering  the 
American  plane,  it  is  much  safer  to  handle, 
commercially. 

213  i 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

But  our  stately  American  sycamore  is  in  a 
different  class.  One  never  thinks  of  it  as  a 
lawn  tree,  or  as  bordering  a  fashionable  road- 
way; rather  the  expectation  is  to  find  it  along 
a  brook,  in  a  meadow,  or  in  some  rather  wild 
and  unkempt  spot.  As  one  of  the  scientific 
books  begins  of  it,  "it  is  a  tree  of  the  first 
magnitude."  I  like  that  expression;  for  the 
sycamore  gives  an  impression  of  magnitude 
and  breadth  ;  it  spreads  out  serenely  and 
comfortably. 

My  friend  Professor  Bailey  says  Platanus 
occidentalism  which  is  the  truly  right  name  of 
this  tree,  has  no  title  to  the  term  sycamore ; 
it  is  properly,  as  his  Cyclopedia  gives  it, 
Buttonwood,  or  Plane.  Hunting  about  a  little 
among  tree  books,  I  find  the  reason  for  this, 
and  that  it  explains  another  name  I  have 
never  understood.  The  sycamore  of  the  Bible, 
referred  to  frequently  in  the  Old  Testament, 
traditionally  mentioned  as  the  tree  under  which 
Joseph  rested  with  Mary  and  the  young  child 
on  the  way  to  Egypt,  and  into  which  Zaccheus 
climbed  to  see  what  was  going  on,  was  a  sort 
of    fig   tree  —  "Pharaoh's    Fig,"    in    fact.     When 

214 


The   sycamore,  or    button-ball 


GETTING   JC^UJINTED    TFITH    THE    TREES 

the  mystery -plays  of  the  centuries  gone  by 
were  produced  in  Europe,  the  tree  most  hke 
to  what  these  good  people  thought  was  the 
real  sycamore  furnished  the  branches  used  in 
the  scene  -  setting  —  and  it  was  either  the  ori- 
ental plane,  or  the  sycamore -leaved  maple  that 
was  chosen,  as  convenient.  The  name  soon 
attached  itself  to  the  trees ;  and  when  home- 
sick immigrants  looked  about  the  new  world  of 
America  for  some  familiar  tree,  it  was  easy 
enough  to  see  a  great  similarity  in  our  button- 
wood,   which    thus    soon    became    sycamore. 

So  much  for  information,  more  or  less  leg- 
endary, I  confess ;  but  the  great  tree  we  are 
discussing  is  very  tangible.  Indeed,  it  is  always 
in  the  public  eye ;  for  it  carries  on  a  sort  of 
continuous  disrobing  performance !  The  snake 
sheds  his  skin  rather  privately,  and  comes  forth 
in  his  new  spring  suit  all  at  once  ;  the  oak  and 
the  maple,  and  all  the  rest  of  them  continually 
but  invisibly  add  new  bark  between  the  split- 
ting or  stretching  ridges  of  the  old;  but  our 
wholesome  friend  the  sycamore  is  quite  shame- 
lessly open  about  it,  dropping  off  a  plate  or  a 
patch    here   and    there    as    he    grows    and    swells, 

216 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 


I 


to  show  us  his  underwear,  which  thus  at  once 
becomes  overcoat,  as  he  goes  on.  At  first 
greenish,  the  under  bark  thus  exposed  be- 
comes creamy  white,  mostly;  and  I  have  had  a 
conceit  that  the  colder  the  winter,  the  whiter 
would  be  those  portions  of  Mr.  Buttonball's 
pajamas  he  cared  to  expose  to  us  the  next 
spring! 

The  leaves  of  the  sycamore  are  good  to  look 
at,  and  efficient  against  the  sun.  The  color 
above  is  not  as  clear  and  sharp  as  that  of  the 
maple;  underneath  the  leaves  are  whitish,  and 
soft,  or  "pubescent,"  as  the  botanical  term  goes. 
Quite  rakishly  pointed  are  the  tips,  and  the 
whole  effect,  in  connection  with  the  balls, — 
which  are  first  crowded  clusters  of  flowers,  and 
then    just    as    crowded    clusters   of  seeds  —  is  that 


Button-balls- 
fruit   of    the    sycamore 


217 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

of  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  dignified  in 
his  knee-breeches  and  cocked  hat,  fully  aware 
that  he  is  of  comfortable  importance  ! 

Those  little  button-balls  that  give  name  to 
this  good  American  tree  follow  the  flower  clus- 
ters without  much  change  of  form  —  they  were 
flowers,  they  are  seeds  —  and  they  stay  by  the 
tree  persistently  all  winter,  blowing  about  in 
the  sharp  winds.  After  a  while  one  is  banged 
often  enough  to  open  its  structure,  and  then 
the  carrying  wind  takes  on  its  wings  the  neat 
little  cone-shaped  seeds,  each  possessed  of  its 
own  silky  hairs  to  help  float  it  gently  toward 
the  ground  —  and  thus  is  another  of  nature's 
curious  rounds  of  distribution  completed. 

A  tree  is  never  without  interest  to  those 
whose  eyes  have  been  opened  to  some  of  the 
wonders  and  perfections  of  nature.  Neverthe- 
less, there  is  a  time  in  the  year's  round  when 
each  tree  makes  its  special  appeal.  It  may  be 
in  the  winter,  when  every  twig  is  outlined 
sharply  against  the  cold  sky,  and  the  snow 
reflects  light  into  the  innermost  crevices  of  its 
structure,  that  the  elm  is  most  admirable. 
When    the    dogwood    has    on    its   white    robe    in 

2i8 


SOME    OTHER     TREES 

May  and  June,  it  then  sings  its  song  of  the 
year.  The  laden  apple  tree  has  a  pure  glory  of 
the  blossoms,  and  another  warmer,  riper  glory 
of  the  burden  of  fruit,  but  we  think  most  kindly 
of  its  flowering  time.  Some  trees  maintain  such 
a  continuous  show  of  interest  and  beauty  that 
it  is  difficult  to  say  on  any  day,  ^^  Now  is  this 
tulip  or  this  oak  at  its  very  finest!"  Again,  the 
spring  redness  of  the  swamp  maple  is  hardly 
less  vivid  than  its  mature  coloring  of  the  fall. 

But  as  to  the  liquidambar,  or  sweet -gum, 
there  can  be  no  question.  Interesting  and  ele- 
gant the  year  round,  its  autumn  covering  of 
polished  deep  crimson  starry  leaves  is  so  start- 
lingly  beautiful  and  distinct  as  to  almost  take 
it  out  of  comparison  with  any  other  tree. 
Others  have  nearly  the  richness  of  color,  others 
again  show  nearly  the  elegance  of  leaf  form, 
but  no  one  tree  rivals  completely  the  sweet- 
gum  at  the  time  when  the  autumn  chill  has 
driven  out  all  the  paleness  in  its  leaf  spectrum, 
leaving  only  the  warm  crimson  that  seems  for 
awhile  to  defy  further  attacks  of  frost. 

As  to  shape,  the  locality  settles  that;  for,  a 
very    symmetrical    small    to    maximum- sized    tree 

219 


The   liquidambar 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

in  the  North  and  on  high  dry  places,  in 
the  South  and  in  wet  places  north  it  becomes 
another  "tree  of  the  first  magnitude,"  wide- 
spreading  and  heavy.  A  stellar  comparison 
seems  to  fit,  because  of  these  wonderful 
leaves.  They  struck  me  at  first,  hunting  pho- 
tographs one  day,  as  some  sort  of  a  maple ; 
but  what  maple  could  have  such  perfection 
of  star  form?  A  maple  refined,  perfected,  and 
indeed  polished,  one  might  well  think,  for 
while  other  trees  have  shining  leaves,  they  are 
dull  in  comparison  with  the  deep  -  textured 
gloss    of   these    of   the    sweet -gum. 

Here,  too.  Is  a  tree  for  many  places;  an 
adaptable,  cosmopolitan  sort  of  arboreal  growth. 
At  its  full  strength  of  hard,  solid,  time -defying 
wooded  body  on  the  edge  of  some  almost 
inaccessible  swamp  of  th  South,  where  its 
spread -out  roots  and  ridgy  branches  earn  for 
it  another  common  name  as  the  "alligator 
tree,"  it  is  in  a  park  or  along  a  private  drive- 
way at  the  North  quite  the  acme  of  refined 
tree  elegance,  all  the  summer  and  fall.  It 
takes  on  a  rather  narrow,  pyramidal  head, 
broadening    as    it    ages,   but    never  betraying   kin 

221 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 


with  its  fellow  of  the  swamp,  save  perhaps 
when  winter  has  bared  its  peculiar  winged  and 
strangely    "corky"    branches. 

These    odd    branches    bear,    on 
some    trees    particularly,    a    notice- 
able   ridge,   made    up    of    the    same 
substance    which    in    the    cork- 
oak    of     Europe    furnishes    the 
bottle- stoppers    of     commerce. 
It    makes     the    winter 
structure    of    the    sweet- 
gum    most    distinct    and 
picturesque,     which     ap- 
pearance   is    accentuated 
by    the    interesting   little 
'f^/^       seed-balls,     or    fruits, 
rounded    and    spiny,    that    hang 
long    from     the     twigs.      These 
fruits    follow    quickly    an    incon- 

The  star-shaped  leaves    SpicUOUS      floWCr      that      in      April 
and  curious  fruits  of  the    ^^    ^  J^^g    ^^^^     '^g    f^j-'^f 

liquidambar,  late   in   the  "^ 

summer.  pcarancc,   and   they  add   greatly 

to  the  general  attractiveness  of  the  tree  on 
the  lawn,  to  my  mind.  Years  ago  I  first  made 
acquaintance    with    the    liquidambar,   as    it   ought 

222 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

always  to  be  called,  one  wet  September  day, 
when  an  old  tree  -  lover  took  me  out  on  his 
lawn  to  see  the  rain  accentuate  the  polish  on 
the  starry  leaves  and  drip  from  the  little  many- 
pointed  balls.  I  found  that  day  that  a  camera 
would  work  quite  well  under  an  umbrella,  and 
I  obtained  also  a  mind- negative  that  will  last, 
I    believe,    as    long    as    I    can    think   of    trees. 

The  next  experience  was  in  another  state, 
where  a  quaint  character,  visited  on  business, 
struck  hands  with  me  on  tree -love,  and  took 
me  to  see  his  pet  liquidambar  at  the  edge  of 
a  mill-pond.  That  one  was  taller,  and  quite 
stately ;  it  made  an  impression,  deepened  again 
when  the  third  special  showing  came,  this  time 
on  a  college  campus,  the  young  tree  being 
naked  and  corky,  and  displayed  with  pride  by 
the  college  professor  who  had  gotten  out  of 
his    books    into    real    Hfe    for    a   joyous    half    day. 

He  wasn't  the  botany  professor,  if  you 
please;  that  dry-as-dust  gentleman  told  me, 
when  I  inquired  as  to  what  I  might  find 
in  early  bloom,  or  see  with  the  eyes  of  an 
ignorant  plant- lover,  that  there  was  "nothing 
blooming,    and    nothing  of    interest."     He   added 

223 


GETTING   ACQUAINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

that  he  had  a  fine  herbarium  where  I  might 
see  all  the  plants  I  wanted,  nicely  dried  and 
spread  out  with  pins  and  pasters,  their  roots 
and    all ! 

Look  at  dead  plants,  their  roots  indecently 
exposed  to  mere  curiosity,  on  a  bright,  living 
early  April  day?  Not  much!  I  told  my  trou- 
ble to  the  professor  of  agriculture,  whose  eyes 
brightened,  as  he  informed  me  he  had  no 
classes  for  that  morning,  and  —  ^^We  would  see!" 
We  did  see  a  whole  host  of  living  things 
outdoors,  —  flowers  peeping  out;  leaves  of  the 
willows,  just  breaking;  buds  ready  to  burst; 
all  nature  waiting  for  the  sun's  call  of  the 
^^grand  entree."  It  was  a  good  day;  but  I 
pitied  that  poor  old  dull- eyed  herbarium  spec- 
imen of  a  botanical  professor,  in  whose  veins 
the  blood  was  congealing,  when  everything 
about  called  on  him  to  get  out  under  the  rays 
of  God's  sun,  and  study,  book  in  hand  if  he 
wanted,  the  bursting,  hurrying  facts  of  the  im- 
minent   spring. 

But  a  word  more  about  the  liquidambar — 
the  name  by  which  I  hope  the  tree  we  are 
discussing    may    be    talked    of    and    thought    of. 

224 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

Old  Linnaeus  gave  it  that  name,  because  it 
described  euphoniously  as  well  as  scientifically 
the  fact  that  the  sap  which  exudes  from  this 
fine  American  tree  is  liquid  amber.  Now  isn't 
that   better    than    ^^gum"    tree? 

With  trees  in  general  as  objects  of  interest, 
I  have  always  felt  a  special  leaning  toward 
tropical  trees,  probably  because  they  were  rare, 
and  indeed  not  to  be  seen  outside  of  the 
conservatory  in  our  Middle  States.  My  first 
visit  to  Florida  was  made  particularly  enjoyable 
by  reason  of  the  palms  and  bananas  there  to 
be  seen,  and  I  have  by  no  means  lost  the 
feeling  of  admiration  for  the  latter  especially. 
In  Yucatan  there  were  to  be  seen  other  and 
stranger  growths  and  fruits,  and  the  novelty  of 
a  great  cocoanut  grove  is  yet  a  memory  not 
eclipsed  by  the  present-day  Floridian  and 
Bahamian    productions    of   the    same    sort. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  some  astonishment 
that  I  came  to  know,  a  few  years  ago,  more 
of  a  little  tree  bearing  a  fruit  that  had  been 
familiar  from  my  boyhood,  but  which  I  was 
then  informed  was  the  sole  northern  represen- 
tative   of    a   great    family   of    tropical    fruits,    and 

225 


The    papaw    in    bloom 

which  was  fairly  called  the  American  banana. 
The  papaw  it  was;  a  fruit  all  too  luscious  and 
sweet,  when  fully  ripe  in  the  fall,  for  most 
tastes,  but  appealing  strongly  to  the  omnivorous 
small  boy.  I  suppose  most  of  my  readers  know 
its  banana -like  fruits,  four  or  five  inches  long, 
green  outside,  but  filled  with  soft  and  sweet 
aromatic  yellow  pulp,  punctuated  by  several 
fat    bean -like    seeds. 

But   it    is    the    very    handsome    and    distinct 
little    tree,    with    its    decidedly    odd    flowers,    I 

226 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

would  celebrate,  rather  than  the  fruits.  This 
tree,  rather  common  to  shady  places  in  eastern 
America  as  far  north  as  New  York,  is  worth 
much  attention,  and  worth  planting  for  its 
spreading  richness  of  foliage.  The  leaves  are 
large,  and  seem  to  carry  into  the  cold  North 
a  hint  of  warmth  and  of  luxuriant  growth  not 
common,  by  any  means  —  I  know  of  only 
one  other  hardy  tree,  the  cucumber  magnolia, 
with  an  approaching  character.  The  arrange- 
ment of  these  handsome  papaw  leaves  on  the 
branches,  too,  makes  the  complete  mass  of 
regularly  shaped  greenery  that  is  the  special 
characteristic  of  this  escape  from  the  tropics ; 
and,  since  I  have  seen  the  real  papaw  of  the 
West  Indies  in  full  glory,  I  am  more  than 
ever  glad  for  the  handsomer  tree  that  belongs 
to    the    regions    of    cold    and   vigor. 

The    form    of    our    papaw,    or  ^simina   triloba 


Flowers    of  the    papaw 
227 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

—  the  botanical  name  is  rather  pleasing — is 
noticeable,  and  as  characteristic  as  its  leafage. 
See  these  side  branches,  leaving  the  slender 
central  stem  with  a  graceful  up -curve,  but 
almost  at  once  swinging  down,  only  to  again 
curve  upward  at  the  ends !  Are  they  not 
graceful?  Such  branches  as  these  point  nature's 
marvelous  engineering,  to  appreciate  which  one 
needs  only  to  try  to  imagine  a  structure  of 
equal  grace  and  efficiency,  made  with  any  ma- 
terial of  the  arts.  How  awkward  and  clumsy 
steel   would    be,    or   other   metal! 

Along  these  swinging  curved  branches,  as 
we  see  them  in  the  April  winds,  there  appear 
hints  of  the  leaf  richness  that  is  to  come  —  but 
something  else  as  well.  These  darkest  purple- 
red  petals,  almost  black,  as  they  change  from 
the  green  of  their  opening  hue,  make  up  the 
peculiar  flowers  of  the  papaw.  There  is  gold 
in  the  heart  of  the  flower,  not  hid  from  the 
bees,  and  there  is  much  of  interest  for  the 
seeker  for  spring  knowledge  as  well;  though 
I  advise  him  not  to  smell  the  flowers.  Almost 
the  exact  antithesis  of  the  dogwood  is  the 
bloom    of    this    tree ;    for,     both    starting   green 

228 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

when  first  unfolded  from  the  buds,  the  papaw's 
flowers  advance  through  browns  and  yellows, 
dully  mingled,  to  the  deep  vinous  red  of 
maturity.  The  dogwood's  final  banner  of  white 
is  unfolded  through  its  progress  of  greens, 
about    the    same    time    or    a   little    later. 

A  pleasant  and  peculiar  small  tree  is  this 
papaw,  not  nearly  so  well  known  or  so  highly 
esteemed    as    it    ought    to    be. 

Another  tree  with  edible  fruits  —  but  here 
there  will  be  a  dispute,  perhaps!  —  is  the  per- 
simmon. I  mean  the  American  persimmon, 
indissolubly  associated  in  our  own  Southland 
with  the  darky  and  the  'possum,  but  also  well 
distributed  over  Eastern  North  America  as  far 
north  as  Connecticut.  The  botanical  name  of 
the  genus  is  Diospyros,  liberally  translated  as 
^4ruit  of  the  gods,"  or  "Jove's  fruit."  If  his 
highness  of  Olympus  was,  by  any  chance,  well 
acquainted  with  our  'simmon  just  before  frost, 
he  must  have  had  a  copper -lined  mouth,  to 
choose    it    as    his    peculiar    fruit ! 

Making  a  moderate -sized  tree  of  peculiar 
and  pleasing  form,  its  branches  twisting  regard- 
less   of    symmetry,    the    persimmon    in    Pennsyl- 

229 


GETTING   AC^AINTED    WITH   THE    TREES 

vania  likes  the  country  roadsides,  especially 
along  loamy  banks.  Here  it  has  ui>equaled 
opportunity  for  hanging  out  its  attractively 
colored  fruits.  As  one  drives  along  in  early 
fall,  just  before  hard  frost,  these  fine -looking 
little  tomato -like  globes  of  orange  and  red 
are  advertised  in  the  wind  by  the  absence  of 
the  early  dropping  foliage.  They  look  luscious 
and  tempting;  indeed,  they  are  tempting! 
Past  experience  —  you  need  but  one  —  had 
prepared  me  for  this  "bunko"  fruit;  but  my 
friend  would  not  believe  me,  one  day  in  early 
October  —  he  must  taste  for  himself.  Taste  he 
did,  and  generously,  for  the  first  bite  is  pleas- 
ing, and  does  not  alarm,  wherefore  he  had 
time,  before  his  insulted  nerves  of  mouth  and 
tongue  gave  full  warning,  to  absorb  two  of 
the  'simmons.  Whew  I  What  a  face  he  made 
when  the  puckering  juice  got  to  work,  and 
convinced  him  that  he  had  been  sucking 
a  disguised  lump  of  alum.  Choking  and 
gasping,  he  called  for  the  water  we  were  far 
from ;  and  he  won't  try  an  unfrosted  per- 
simmon   again  ! 

My   clerical    friend    who    brought    home    the 

230 


The  persimmon  tree  in   fruiting   time 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

fairy  tale  about  the  red -bud,  or  Judas-tree, 
might  well  have  based  his  story  on  the  Ameri- 
can persimmon,  but  for  the  fact  that  this  puck- 
ery  little  globe,  so  brilliant  and  so  deceptive 
before  frost,  loses  both  its  beauty  and  its  astrin- 
gency  when  slightly  frozen.  Then  its  tender 
flesh  is  suave  and  delicious,  and  old  Jove  might 
well   choose  it  for  his  own. 

But  the  tree  —  that  is  a  beauty  all  summer, 
with  its  shining  leaves,  oblong,  pointed  and 
almost  of  the  magnolia  shape.  It  will  grace 
any  situation,  and  is  particularly  one  of  the 
trees  worth  planting  along  highways,  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  too  many  maples,  ashes,  horse- 
chestnuts  and  the  like,  and  to  offer  to  the 
passer-by  a  tempting  fruit  of  which  he  will 
surely  not  partake  too  freely  when  it  is  most 
attractive.  I  read  that  toward  the  Western  limit 
of  its  range  the  persimmon,  in  Louisiana,  East- 
ern Kansas  and  the  Indian  Territory,  becomes 
another  tree  of  the  first  magnitude,  towering 
above  a  hundred  feet.  This  would  be  well 
worth  seeing ! 

There  is  another  persimmon  in  the  South, 
introduced   from   Japan,   the    fruits   of  which    are 

232 


SOME    OTHER    TREES 

sold  on  the  fruit -stands  of  Philadelphia,  Bos- 
ton and  New  York.  This,  the  ^^kaki"  of  Japan, 
is  a  small  but  business-like  tree,  not  substan- 
tially hardy  north  of  Georgia,  which  provides 
great  quantities  of  its  beautiful  fruits,  rich  in 
coloring  and  sweet  to  the  taste,  and  varying 
greatly  in  size  and  form  in  its  different  varie- 
ties. These  'simmons  do  not  need  the  touch 
of  frost,  nor  do  they  ever  attain  the  fine,  wild, 
high  flavor  of  the  frost-bitten  Virginian  fruits; 
the  tree  that  bears  them  has  none  of  the 
irregular  beauty  of  our  native  persimmon,  nor 
does  it  approach  in  size  to  that  ornament  of 
the    countryside. 

And  now,  in  closing  these  sketches,  I  be- 
come most  keenly  sensible  of  their  deficiencies. 
Purely  random  bits  they  are,  coming  from  a 
busy  man,  and  possessing  the  one  merit  of 
frankness.  Deeply  interested  in  trees,  but  lack- 
ing the  time  for  continuous  study,  I  have  been 
turning  my  camera  and  my  eyes  upon  the 
growths  about  me,  asking  questions,  mentally 
recording  what  I  could  see,  and,  while  thankful 
for  the    rest    and    the    pleasure    of    the    pursuit, 

233 


GETTING  AC^AINTED    WITH    THE    TREES 

always  sorry  not  to  go  more  fully  into  proper 
and  scientific  tree  knowledge.  At  times  my 
lack  in  this  respect  has  made  me  ashamed  to 
have  written  at  all  upon  trees ;  but  with  full 
gratitude  to  the  botanical  explorers  whose 
labors  have  made  such  superficial  observations 
as  mine  possible,  I  venture  to  send  forth 
these  sketches,  without  pretension  as  to  the 
statement   of    any    new    facts    or    features. 

If  anything  I  have  here  set  down  shall 
induce  among  those  who  have  looked  and  read 
with  me  from  nature's  open  book  the  desire 
to  go  more  deeply  into  the  fascinating  tree 
lore  that  always  awaits  and  inevitably  rewards 
the    effort,    I    shall    cry    heartily,    "God -speed!" 


Berries  of  the  spice- bush 


234 


Sntiej 


Illustrations   are    indicated    by  a    prefixed    asterisk    (*) .     For  botanical 
names,  see    page    239. 


Acorn,  beginning  of,  27. 

Alligator  tree,  221. 

Amelanchier,  205. 

American  trees  in  Europe,  133. 

Apple  blossoms,  75,  80. 

Apple,  beauty  of  fruiting  branch, 
*9i. 

Apple,  Chinese  flowering,  90. 

Apple,  Crab,  80. 

Apple  trees,  fruiting,  93;  in  blos- 
som, *8i. 

Apples,  73. 

Apples,  Ben  Davis,  Bellefleur,  Bald- 
win, Early  Harvest,  Red  Astra- 
chan,  93;  Rhode  Island  Green- 
ing, 76;  Winesap,  fruit,  ^j^. 

Apple  orchard  in  winter,  *78. 

Apples,  Crab,  fruit-cluster,  ^73. 

Apples,*  propagation  of,  88. 

Arnold  Arboretum,  57,  89. 

Aspen,  American,  121. 

Aspen,  Large-toothed,  121. 

Aspen,  Trembling  (poplar),  121. 

Bailey,  Prof.  L.  H.,  quoted,  125. 
Balm  of  Gilead,  118. 
Beech,  American,  *title-page,  ^177, 
178. 


Beech,  birth  of  leaves,  179. 

Bill-boards,  179. 

Birch-bark  for  fuel,  190. 

Birch,  Paper,  190. 

Birch,  Sweet,  188,  ^185,  *i9i- 

Birch,  White,  193. 

Birch,  Yellow,  189,  *i92. 

Butternut,  164. 

Buttonball,  ^215. 

Buttonwood,  214. 

Cathedral  Woods  (pines),  68. 

Cedar,  White,  71. 

Cherry,  Wild,  176. 

Chestnut,     American     Sweet,      166, 

^165. 
Chestnut  burs,  *i57. 
Chestnut  grove  in  fall,  168. 
Chestnut,  Sweet,  blossoms,  ^167. 
Chinquapin,  169,  *i70. 
Cocoanut,  182. 
Common  names,  146. 
Cones  of  the  pines,  64. 
Cornus  sericea,  200. 
Cottonwood  (poplar),  125. 
Crab-apple,     80;     Floribunda,     92; 

Parkman's,     88;      Siberian,     89; 

Spectabilis,   ^84. 
Crab-apple,  Wild,  85. 


23s 


INDEX 


Crab-apples,  Chinese  and  Japanese, 

88;  Ringo,  Kaido,  Toringo,  93. 
Crab,  Wild,   83. 
Crab,  Soulard,  86. 
Crab,  Wild,  fruit,  ^87. 
Cypress,  72. 

Diospyros,  229. 
Dogwood  berries,  *i87. 
Dogwood,  Blue-berried,  200. 
Dogwood,  White,  197,  ^199. 


Hickory,  Shagbark,  171,  *i73. 
Hollies,   Japanese,    English,    Hima- 
layan, 195. 
Holly,  American,  194,  *i96. 
Holly,  leaves  and  berries,  ^195. 

Johnny  Appleseed,  87. 
Judas-tree,  201. 
Judas-tree,  Eastern,  202. 
June-berry,  205. 
Juniper,  Common,  71. 


Elkwood,  20. 

Elm  and  the  Tulip,  131. 

Elm,  American,  *ix,  134,  ^136, 

139- 
Elm  at  Capitol  Park,  141. 
Elm,  English,  142;  *i43. 
Elm  lawn,  138. 
Elm,  Slippery,  142,  seed-pods, 
Elm,  Wahoo  or  Winged,  144. 
Elms,  Paul  and  Virginia,  141. 

Fence-post  tree  (locust),  210. 

Fernow,  Dr.,  on  pines,  52. 

Filbert,  181. 

Fir,  Balsam,  70. 

Fir,  Nordmann's,  65. 

Firs,  65. 

Fruit  trees  for  beauty,  82. 

Goat  Island,  plants  on,  113. 

Habenaria,  Round-leaved,  54. 

Hazelnut,  181. 

Hemlock,  55. 

Hemlock  Hill,  ^56. 

Hickory,  False  Shagbark,  176. 

Hickory,  Mockernut,  176. 

Hickory,  Pignut,  176. 


Kaki,  233. 

Keeler,  Miss,  quoted, 


17. 


i37> 


131, 


Linden,    American,     206;     flowers, 

^207,  ^209. 
Linden,  European,  208. 
Liquidambar,  219,  *22o;  fruits,  *222. 
Liriodendron,  145;  candlesticks,  147; 

buds    opening,     149;     flowers    of, 

^150.  153- 
Liriodendrons  in  Washington,  152. 
Locust,  Black,  210;   flowers,  *2ii. 
Locust,  young  trees,  *2i2. 

Maple,  Ash-leaved,  Box-elder,  or 
Negundo,  17;  flowers,  *i7;  in 
bloom,  ^19. 

Maple,  Black,  22. 

Maple,  Japanese,  23. 

Maple,  Large-leaved,  22. 

Maple,  Mountain,  21. 

Maple,  Norway,  8;  bloom,  ^9 ;  sa- 
maras, ^i. 

Maple,  Red,  Scarlet  or  Swamp,  6; 
young  leaves,  ^7. 

Maple,  Silver,  4;  flowers,  ^4;  sa- 
maras, *3. 

Maple,  Striped,  20,  *2i. 


236 


INDEX 


Maple,    Sugar,    lo;    samaras,   *ii. 
Maple,    Sycamore,    ^13,    15;    blos- 
soms, *i5. 
Maples,  A  Story  of  Some,  i. 
Moosewood,  20. 

Niagara,  plants  and  trees,  iii. 
Nut-bearing  Trees,  157. 

Oak,  Chestnut,  42;  flowers,  ^25. 

Oak,  English,  33,  46;  acorns,  ^47. 

Oak,  The  Growth  of  the,  25. 

Oak,  Laurel,  43. 

Oak,  Live,  45. 

Oak,  Mossy  Cup  or  Bur,  38. 

Oak,  Pin,  30;  acorns,  ^27;  flowers, 

^31. 
Oak,  Post,  *39,  40. 
Oak,    Swamp    White,    38;     flowers, 

*4i ;    in    early    spring,     ^36;     in 

winter,  *2<). 
Oak,  White,  33. 
Oak,  Willow,  42. 
Oaks,  blooming  of,  28. 
Oaks  in  Georgia,  44. 
Oaks,  Red,  Black,  Scarlet,  46. 
Orchard,  apple,  77. 

Papaw,     225  ;     flowers,     ^227  ;     in 

bloom,   *226. 
Paxtang  walnut,  160. 
Pecan,  176;   nuts,  *i59. 
Persimmons,  American,  229. 
Persimmon,  Japanese,  *v,  232. 
Persimmon  tree  in  fruit,  *23i. 
Pine,  Austrian,  64. 
Pine,  Jack,  64. 
Pine,  Long-leaved  or  Southern,  63; 

forest,  *6i  ;  young  trees,  *62. 
Pine  on  Indian  Rive:,  *53. 


Pine,  Pitch,  64. 

Pine,  Red,  59. 

Pine,  Scrub,  64. 

Pine,  White,  *vii,  59;  cone,  *5i. 

Pines  of  America,  58. 

Pines,  The,  49. 

Pines,  White,  avenue  of,  ^67. 

Plane,  Oriental,  213. 

Plane-tree,  213. 

Poplar,  Aspen,  121. 

Poplar,  Balsam,  or  Balm  of  Gilead, 
118. 

Poplar,  Carolina,  122;  as  street 
tree,  ^123 ;  blooming  of,  124; 
flowers,  *95. 

Poplar,  Cottonwood,  125;  in  win- 
ter,  *I26. 

Poplar,  Lombardy,  128,  *i29. 

Poplar,  White  or  Silver-leaved,  125. 

Poplar,  Yellow,  145. 

Poplars  (and  Willows),  95,  118. 

Poplars  for  pulp-making,  128. 

Poplars,  White,  in  spring,  *ii9. 

Pyrus  family,  89, 

Rain,  flowers  in,  203. 
Red-bud,  201;   in  bloom,  *20i. 
Red-woods,  72. 

Salicylic  acid  from  willows,  99. 
Salix,  genus  (Willows),  117. 
Sargent,  Prof.  Charles  S.,  92. 
Sequoias,  72. 
Service-berry,  205. 
Shad-bush,  205;  flowers,  *2o6. 
Skunk-cabbage,  188. 
Some  Other  Trees,  185. 
Spice-bush,      193;      flowers,      ^194; 

berries,  234. 
Spruce,  Colorado  Blue,  65, 


^11 


IND  EX 


Spruce,  Norvray,  69;  cones,  *49. 

Spruce,  White,  cones,  *7i. 

Spruces,  65. 

Squirrels  as  nut-eaters,  *i79. 

Strobiles  (cones)  of  spruce,  69. 

Sweet-gum,  219. 

Sycamore,  214,  *2i5;  fruits,  *2i7. 

Tree-warden  law,  35. 

Tropical  trees,  225. 

Tulip  (and  Elm),  131,  145. 

Tulip    flowers,    *i33;    structure    of, 

148. 
Tulip  tree  in  winter,  *i48. 
Walnut,     Black,     160;     in    winter, 

^162. 
Walnut,  English  cr  Persian,   164. 
Walnut,  White,  164. 
Washington,  tree  planting  in,  32. 
Whitewood,  145. 


Willow,  Basket,  104. 

Willow,  Black,  no. 

Willow  family,  contrasts  of,  98. 

Willow,  glaucous  (pussy),  107. 

Willow,  Goat,  113. 

Willow,  Golden,  in. 

Willow,  Kilmarnock,  113. 

Willow,  Napoleon's,  98. 

Willow,    Pussy,    105;    blooms,  ^97; 

in  park,  *io6. 
Willow,    Weeping,    102;    in    early 

spring,  *ioo;  in  storm,  ■^103. 
Willow,     White,      108;      blossoms, 

*io8,   109;    clump,  *ii6;    tree  by 

stream,  *ii2. 
Willows  and  Poplars,  95. 
Willows,  colors  of,  loi. 
Willows,  Crack,  Yellow,  Blue,  107. 
Willows  of  Babylon,  97. 
Witch-hazel,  181;  flowers,  *i8i. 


238 


Botanical  S^amts 


The    standard    used    in    determining    the    botanical    names    is    Bailey's 
"Cyclopedia   of   American    Horticulture." 

COMMON   NAME                                                                                  BOTANICAL   NAME  PAGE 

Amelanchier      Amelanchier  Canadensis     ....  205 

Aspen,  American Populus  tremuloides 121 

Aspen,  Large-toothed Populus  grandidentata 121 

Beech,  American Fagus  ferruginea 178 

Birch,  Paper         Betula  papyrifera 190 

Birch,  Sweet Betula  lenta 188 

Birch,  White Betula  populifolia 193 

Birch,  Yellow Betula  lutea 189 

Butternut Juglans  cinerea 164 

Bultonball ]  „,                     .,         ,.      f       *2i5 

„  ,  y  Platanus  occidentalis    i 

Buttonwood j                                             (        ....  214 

Chestnut,  American  Sweet     ....  Castanea  Americana 166 

Chinquapin Castanea  pumila 169 

Cocoanut Cocos  nucifera 182 

Cottonwood  (poplar) Populus  deltoidcs i;25 

Crab-apple,  Siberian Pyrus  baccata 89 

Crab-apple,  Wild Pyrus  coronaria      85 

Crab,  Soulard Pyrus  Soulardi 86 

Dogwood,  Blue-berried Cornus  sericea 200 

Dogwood,  White Cornus  florida 197 

Elm,  American Ulmus  Americana 134 

Elm,  English Ulmus  campestris 142 

Elm,  Slippery  or  Red Ulmus  fulva 142 

Elm,  Wahoo  or  Winged Ulmus  alata 144 

Filbert Corylus  Americana 181 

Fir,  Balsam Abies  balsamea 70 

Fir,  Nordmann's Abies  Nordmanniana 65 

Habenaria,  Round-leaved Habenaria  orbiculata 54 


BOTANICAL    NAMES 

COMMON  NAME                                                                             BOTANICAL   NAME  PAGE 

Hazelnut Corylus  Americana i8i 

Hemlock Tsuga  Canadensis 55 

Hickory,  False  Shagbark Hicoria  glabra,  var.  microcarpa    .  176 

Hickory,  Mockernut Hicoria  alba 176 

Hickory,  Pignut Hicoria  glabra 176 

Hickory,  Shagbark Hicoria  ovata 171 

Holly,  American Ilex  opaca 194 

Judas-tree Cercis  Canadensis 201 

Judas-tree,  Eastern Cercis  Siliquastrum 202 

June-berry Amelanchier  Botryapium    ....  205 

Juniper,  Common Juniperus  communis 71 

Kaki Diospyros  Kaki 233 

Linden,  American Tilia  Americana 206 

Linden,  European Tilia  tomentosa 208 

Liquidambar Liquidambar  styraciflua 219 

Liriodendron Liriodendron  Tulipifera 145 

Locust,  Black Robinia  Pseudacacia 210 

Maple,  Ash-leaved,  Box-elder  or 

Negundo Acer  Negundo 17 

Maple,  Black Acer  nigrum 22 

Maple,  Japanese Acer  palmatum 23 

Maple,  Large-leaved Acer  macrophyllum 22 

Maple,  Mountain Acer  spicatum 21 

Maple,  Norway Acer  platanoides 8 

Maple,  Red,  Scarlet  or  Swamp    .    .  Acer  rubrum 6 

Maple,  Silver,  White  or  Soft    .    .    .  Acer  saccharinum      4 

Maple,  Striped,  of  Pennsylvania  .    .  Acer  Pennsylvanicum 20 

Maple,  Sugar Acer  saccharum 10 

Maple,  Sycamore .  Acer  Pseudo-platanus 15 

Oak,  Chestnut Quercus  Prinus 42 

Oak,  English Quercus  pedunculata 33,  46 

Oak,  Laurel Quercus  laurifolia 43 

Oak,  Live Quercus  Virginiana 45 

Oak,  Mossy  Cup  or  Bur Quercus  macrocarpa 38 

Oak,  Pin Quercus  palustris 30 

Oak,  Post Quercus  stellata 40 

Oak,  Swamp  White Quercus  bicolor 38 

Oak,  White Quercus  alba 33 

Oak,  Willow Quercus  Phellos 42 

Papaw ,    ,    , Asimina  triloba .  225 

240 


BOTANICAL    NAMES 

COMMON   NAME                                                                                  BOTANICAL   NAME  PAGE 

Pecan Hlcoria  Pecan 176 

Persimmon,  American Diospyros  Virginiana 229 

Persimmon,  Japanese Diospyros  Kaki 232 

Pine,  Austrian .  Pinus  Laricio,  var.  Austriaca    .    .  64 

Pine,  Long-leaved  or  Southern    .    .  Pinus  palustris 63 

Pine,  Pitch Pinus  rigida 64 

Pine,  Red Pinus  resinosa 59 

Pine,  Scrub Pinus  Virginiana 64 

Pine,  White Pinus  Strobus 59 

Plane,  Oriental Platanus  orientalis 213 

Plane-tree Platanus  occidentalis 213 

Poplar,  Aspen Populus  tremuloides 121 

Poplar,  Balsam*  or  Balm  of  Gilead.  Populus  balsamifera      118 

Poplar,  Carolina Populus  deltoides,  var.  Caroliniana  122 

Poplar,  Cottonwood Populus  deltoides 125 

Poplar,  Lombardy Populus  nigra,  var.  Italica     .  128,  ^129 

Poplar,  White  or  Silver-leaved    .    .  Populus  alba 121; 

Poplar,  Yellow Liriodendron  Tulipifera 145 

Red-bud Cercis  Canadensis 201 

Service -berry Amelanchier  vulgaris 205 

Shad-bush Amelanchier  Canadensis     ....  205 

Skunk-cabbage Spathyema  foetida 188 

Spice-bush Benzoin  oderiferum 193 

Spruce,  Colorado  Blue Picea  pungens 65 

Spruce,  Norway Picea  excelsa 69 

Sweet-gum Liquidambar  styraciflua 219 

Sycamore Platanus  occidentalis 214 

Walnut,  Black Juglans  nigra .  160 

Walnut,  English  or  Persian     .    .    .  Juglans  regia 164 

Walnut,  White Juglans  cinerea 164 

Whitewood Liriodendron  Tulipifera 145 

Willow,  Basket Salix  viminalis 104 

Willow,  Black      Salix  nigra no 

Willow,  Goat Salix  Caprea 113 

Willow,  Golden Salix  vitellina -    .    .  in 

Willow,  Kilmarnock Salix  Caprea,  var.  pendula     ...  113 

Willow,  Pussy Salix  discolor 105 

Willow,  Weeping   .    .    . Salix  Babylonica 102 

Willow,  White Salix  alba 108 

Witch-hazel Hamamelis  Virginiana i8i 

,4.  — ""' 


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6 


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A  charmingly  written  series  of  tree  essays.  They  are  not 
scientific  but  popular,  and  are  the  outcome  of  the  author's  desire 
that  others  should  share  the  rest  and  comfort  that  have  come  to 
him  through  acquaintance  with  trees. 


MAJOR.  THE  BEARS  OF  BLUE  RIVER,  By  Charles  Major. 
12mo.     Illustrated.     277  pages. 

A  collection  of  good  bear  stories  with  a  live  boy  for  the  hero. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  the  early  days  of  Indiana. 

MARSHALL.  WINIFRED'S  JOURNAL.  By  Emma  Marshall. 
12mo.     Illustrated.     353  pages. 

A  story  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  First.  Some  of  the  characters 
are  historical  personages. 

MEANS.  PALMETTO  STORIES.  By  Celina  E.  Means.  12mo. 
Illustrated,     x  +  244  pages. 

True  accounts  of  some  of  the  men  and  women  who  made  the 
history  of  South  Carolina,  and  correct  pictures  of  the  conditions 
under  which  these  men  and  women  labored. 

MORRIS.  MAN  AND  HIS  ANCESTOR:  A  STUDY  IN  EVOLU- 
TION. By  Charles  Morris.  16mo.  Illustrated,  vii  +  238 
pages. 

A  popular  presentation  of  the  subject  of  man's  origin.  The 
various  significant  facts  that  have  been  discovered  since  Darwin's 
time  are  given,  as  well  as  certain  lines  of  evidence  never  before 
presented  in  this  connection. 

NEWBOLT.  STORIES  FROM  FROISSART.  By  Henry  Newbolt. 
12mo.  Illustrated,  xxxi  +  368  pages. 
Here  are  given  entire  thirteen  episodes  from  the  "Chronicles" 
of  Sir  John  Froissart.  The  text  is  modernized  sufficiently  to  make 
it  intelligible  to  young  readers.  Separated  narratives  are  dove- 
tailed, and  new  translations  have  been  made  where  necessary  to 
make  the  narrative  complete  and  easily  readable. 

OVERTON.  THE  CAPTAIN'S  DAUGHTER.  By  Gwendolen 
Overton.     12mo.     Illustrated,     vii  +  270  pages. 

A  story  of  girl  life  at  an  army  post  on  the  frontier.  The  plot  is 
an  absorbing  one,  and  the  interest  of  the  reader  is  held  to  the  end. 

PALGRAVE.  THE  CHILDREN'S  TREASURY  OF  ENGLISH 
SONG.  Selected  and  arranged  by  Francis  Turner  Palgrave. 
16mo.     viii  +  302  pages. 

This  collection  contains  168  selections  —  songs,  narratives, 
descriptive  or  reflective  pieces  of  a  l3''rical  quality,  all  suited  to  the 
taste  and  understanding  of  children. 


8 

PALMER.  STORIES  FROM  THE  CLASSICAL  LITERATURE 
OF  MANY  NATIONS.  Edited  by  Bertha  Palmer.  12mo. 
XV  +  297  pages. 

A  collection  of  sixty  characteristic  stories  from  Chinese,  Japa- 
nese, Hebrew,  Babylonian,  Arabian,  Hindu,  Greek,  Roman, 
German,  Scandinavian,  Celtic,  Russian,  Italian,  French,  Spanish, 
Portuguese,  Anglo-Saxon,  English,  Finnish,  and  American  Indian 
sources. 

RIIS.      CHILDREN   OF  THE  TENEMENTS.     By  Jacob  A.  Riis. 

12mo.     Illustrated,     ix  +  3S7  pages. 

Forty  sketches  and  short  stories  dealing  with  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  life  in  the  slums  of  New  York  City,  told  just  as  they 
came  to  the  writer,  fresh  from  the  life  of  the  people. 

SANDYS.  TRAPPER  JIM.  By  Edwyn  Sandys.  12mo.  Illus- 
trated,    ix  +  441  pages. 

A  book  which  will  delight  every  normal  boy.  Jim  is  a  city  lad 
who  learns  from  an  older  cousin  all  the  lore  of  outdoor  life  — • 
trapping,  shooting,  fishing,  camping,  swimming,  and  canoeing. 
The  author  is  a  well-known  writer  on  outdoor  subjects. 

SEXTON.  STORIES  OF  CALIFORNIA.  By  Ella  M.  Sexton. 
12mo.     Illustrated.     X-F211  pages. 

Twenty-two  stories  illustrating  the  early  conditions  and  the 
romantic  history  of  California  and  the  subsequent  development 
of  the  state. 

SHARP.  THE  YOUNGEST  GIRL  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  By  Evelyn 
Sharp.     12mo.     Illustrated,     ix  +  326  pages. 

Bab,  the  "  youngest  girl,"  was  only  eleven  and  the  pet  of  five 
brothers.  Her  ups  and  downs  in  a  strange  boarding  school  make 
an  interesting  story. 

SPARKS.  THE  MEN  WHO  MADE  THE  NATION:  AN  OUTLINE 
OF  UNITED  STATES  HISTORY  FROM    1776    TO    1861.      By 

Edwin  E.  Sparks.     12mo.     Illustrated,     viii  +415  pages. 

The  author  has  chosen  to  tell  our  history  by  selecting  the  one 
man  at  various  periods  of  our  affairs  who  was  master  of  the  situ- 
ation and  about  whom  events  naturally  grouped  themselves. 
The  characters  thus  selected  number  twelve,  as  "Samuel  Adams, 
the  man  of  the  town  meeting"  ;  "Robert  Morris,  the  financier  of 
the  Revolution";  "Hamilton,  the  advocate  of  stronger  govern- 
ment,"  etc.,  etc. 


9 

THACHER.  THE  LISTENING  CHILD.  A  selection  from  the 
stories  of  English  verse,  made  for  the  youngest  readers  and 
hearers.     By  Lucy  W.  Thacher.     12mo.     xxx  +  408  pages. 

Under  this  title  are  gathered  two  hundred  and  fifty  selections. 
The  arrangement  is  most  intelligent,  as  shown  in  the  proportions 
assigned  to  different  authors  and  periods.  Much  prominence  is 
given  to  purely  imaginative  writers.  The  preliminary  essay,  "A 
Short  Talk  to  Children  about  Poetry,"  is  full  of  suggestion. 

WALLACE.  UNCLE  HENRY'S  LETTERS  TO  THE  FARM 
BOY.     By  Henry  Wallace.     16mo.     ix  +  180  pages. 

Eighteen  letters  on  habits,  education,  business,  recreation,  and 
kindred  subjects. 

WEED.      LIFE     HISTORIES     OF     AMERICAN     INSECTS.      By 

Clarence  Moores  Weed.     12mo.     Illustrated,     xii  +  272  pages. 

In  these  pages  are  described  by  an  enthusiastic  student  of 
entomology  such  changes  as  may  often  be  seen  in  an  insect's 
form,  and  which  mark  the  progress  of  its  life.  He  shows  how  very 
wide  a  field  of  interesting  facts  is  within  reach  of  any  one  who  has 
the  patience  to  collect  these  little  creatures. 

WELLS.  THE  JINGLE  BOOK.  By  Carolyn  Wells.  12mo. 
Illustrated,     viii  +124  pages. 

A  collection  of  fifty  delightful  jingles  and  nonsense  verses.  The 
illustrations  by  Oliver  Herford  do  justice  to  the  text. 

WILSON.      DOMESTIC    SCIENCE   IN    GRAMMAR    GRADES.      A 

Reader.     By  Lucy  L.  W\  Wilson.     12mo.     ix  +  193  pages. 

Descriptions  of  homes  and  household  customs  of  all  ages  and 
countries,  studies  of  materials  and  industries,  glimpses  of  the 
homes  of  literature,  and  articles  on  various  household  subjects. 

WILSON.      HISTORY  READER  FOR  ELEMENTARY  SCHOOLS. 

By    Lucy    L.    W.    Wilson.      16mo.     Illustrated,     xvii  +  403 
pages. 

Stories  grouped  about  the  greatest  men  and  the  most  striking 
events  in  our  country's  history.     The  readings  run  by  months, 
eeinnine  with  SeDtember. 


beginning  with  September. 


WILSON.      PICTURE  STUDY  IN  ELEMENTARY  SCHOOLS.     By 
Lucy  L.  W.  Wilson.     12mo.     Illustrated. 


10 

Ninety  half-tone  reproductions  from  celebrated  paintings  both 
old  and  modern,  accompanied  by  appropriate  readings  from  the 
poets.     All  schools  of  art  are  represented. 

WRIGHT.     HEART   OF    NATURE.      By   Mabel   Osgood   Wright. 
12mo.     Illustrated. 

This  volume  comprises  "Stories  of  Plants  and  Animals," 
"Stories  of  Earth  and  Sky,"  and  "Stories  of  Birds  and  Beasts," 
usually  published  in  three  volumes  and  known  as  "The  Heart  of 
Nature  Series."  It  is  a  delightful  combination  of  story  and 
nature  study,  the  author's  name  being  a  sufficient  warrant  for  its 
interest  and  fidelity  to  nature. 

WRIGHT.      FOUR-FOOTED  AMERICANS  AND  THEIR  KIN.      By 

Mabel   Osgood   Wright,   edited  by   Frank  Chapman.     12mo. 
Illustrated,     xv  +  432  pages. 

An  animal  book  in  story  form.  The  scene  shifts  from  farm  to 
woods,  and  back  to  an  old  room,  fitted  as  a  sort  of  winter  camp, 
where  vivid  stories  of  the  birds  and  beasts  which  cannot  be  seen 
at  home  are  told  by  the  campfire,  —  the  sailor  who  has  hunted  the 
sea,  the  woodman,  the  mining  engineer,  and  wandering  scientist, 
each  taking  his  turn.  A  useful  family  tree  of  North  American 
Mammals  is  added. 

WRIGHT.     DOGTOWN.      By     Mabel     Osgood     Wright.     12mo. 
Illustrated,     xiii  +  405  pages. 

"Dogtown"  w^as  a  neighborhood  so  named  because  so  many 
people  loved  and  kept  dogs.  For  it  is  a  story  of  people  as  well  as 
of  dogs,  and  several  of  the  people  as  well  as  the  dogs  are  old  friends^ 
having  been  met  in  Mrs.  Weight's  other  books. 

YONGE.       LITTLE    LUCY'S    WONDERFUL    GLOBE.      By   Char- 
lotte M.  Yonge.     12mo.     Illustrated,     xi  +  140  pages. 

An  interesting  and  ingenious  introduction  to  geography.  In 
her  dreams  Lucy  visits  the  children  of  various  lands  and  thus 
learns  much  of  the  habits  and  customs  of  these  countries. 

YONGE.      UNKNOWN   TO   HISTORY.      By  Charlotte  M.   Yong3. 
12mo.     Illustrated,     xi  +  589  pages. 

A  story  of  the  captivity  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  told  in  the 
author's  best  vein. 


I 


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